THE SPORT OF THE GODS





THE SPORT
of THE GODS
By
PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR
Author of "Lyrics of Lowly Life," "Poems of Cabin and
Field," "Candle-Llghtin' Time," "The Fanatics," etc.

NEW YORK . D O D D, MEAD
AND COMPANY • MDCCCCII


Copyright, 1901
By J. B. Lippincott Company
Copyright, 190t
Bt Dodd, Mead and Company
First edition published April, 1902
UNIVERSITY PRESS . JOHN WILSON
AND SON . CAMBRIDGE, V. S. A.


Contents
Chapter Page
1. The Hamiltons 1
II. A Farewell Dinner 8
III. The Theft 20
IV. From a Clear Sky 83
V. The Justice of Men 48
VI. Outcasts 64
VII. In New York 81
VIII. An Evening Out 96
IX. His Heart's Desire 109
X. A Visitor from Home 128
XI. Broken Hopes 142
XII. "All the World's a Stage" . . 160
XIII. The Oakleys 179
XIV. Frankenstein 197
XV. "Dear, Damned, Delightful Town" 210
XVI. Skaggs's Theory 218
XVII. A Yellow Journal 235
XVIII. What Berry Found 246





The Sport of the Gods
i
THE HAMILTONS
FICTION has said so much in regret of
the old days when there were plan-
tations and overseers and masters and
slaves, that it was good to come upon
such a household as Berry Hamilton's, if
for no other reason than that it afforded
a relief from the monotony of tiresome
iteration.
The little cottage in which he lived
with his wife, Fannie, who was house-
keeper to the Oakleys, and his son and
daughter, Joe and Kit, sat back in the
yard some hundred paces from the man-
sion of his employer. It was somewhat
in the manner of the old cabin in the
quarters, with which usage as well as
l 1


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
tradition had made both master and ser-
vant familiar. But, unlike the cabin of
the elder day, it was a neatly furnished,
modern house, the home of a typical,
good-living negro. For twenty years
Berry Hamilton had been butler for
Maurice Oakley. He was one of the
many slaves who upon their accession to
freedom had not left the South, but had
wandered from place to place in their
own beloved section, waiting, working,
and struggling to rise with its rehabili-
tated fortunes.
The first faint signs of recovery were
being seen when he came to Maurice
Oakley as a servant. Through thick and
thin he remained with him, and when
the final upward tendency of his em-
ployer began his fortunes had increased
in like manner. When, having married,
Oakley bought the great house in which
he now lived, he left the little servant's
cottage in the yard, for, as he said laugh-
ingly, "There is no telling when Berry
2


THE SPORT OF THE G0D8
and behind it; vegetables and greens testi-
fied to the housewife's industry.
Over the door of the little house a fine
Virginia creeper bent and fell in graceful
curves, and a cluster of insistent morning-
glories clung in summer about its stalwart
stock.
It was into this bower of peace and com-
fort that Joe and Kitty were born. They
brought a new sunlight into the house and
a new joy to the father's and mother's
hearts. Their early lives were pleasant
and carefully guarded. They got what
schooling the town afforded, but both went
to work early, Kitty helping her mother
and Joe learning the trade of barber.
Kit was the delight of her mother's life.
She was a pretty, cheery little thing, and
could sing like a lark. Joe too was of a
cheerful disposition, but from scraping the
chins of aristocrats came to imbibe some
of their ideas, and rather too early in life
bid fair to be a dandy. But his father
encouraged him, for, said he, "It's de
4


THE HAMILTON'S
p'opah thing fu' a man what waits on
quality to have quality mannahs an' to
waih quality clothes."
"'T ain't no use to be a-humo'in' dat
boy too much, Be'y," Fannie had replied,
although she did fully as much "humo'in'"
as her husband; "hit sho' do mek' him
biggety, an' a biggety po' niggah is a
'bomination befo' de face of de Lawd; but
I know't ain't no use a-talkin' to you, fu'
you plum boun' up in dat Joe."
Her own eyes would follow the boy lov-
ingly and proudly even as she chided. She
could not say very much, either, for Berry
always had the reply that she was spoiling
Kit out of all reason. The girl did have
the prettiest clothes of any of her race in
the town, and when she was to sing for the
benefit of the A. M. E. church or for the
benefit of her father's society, the Tribe of
Benjamin, there was nothing too good for
her to wear. In this too they were aided
and abetted by Mrs. Oakley, who also took
a lively interest in the girl.
5


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
So the two doting parents had their
chats and their jokes at each other's ex-
pense and went bravely on, doing their
duties and spoiling their children much as
white fathers and mothers are wont to do.
What the less fortunate negroes of the
community said of them and their offspring
is really not worth while. Envy has a
sharp tongue, and when has not the aristo-
crat been the target for the plebeian's
sneers?
Joe and Kit were respectively eighteen
and sixteen at the time when the prepara-
tions for Maurice Oakley's farewell dinner
to his brother Francis were agitating the
whole Hamilton household. All of them
had a hand in the work: Joe had shaved
the two men; Kit had helped Mrs. Oakley's
maid; the mother had fretted herself weak
over the shortcomings of a cook that had
been in the family nearly as long as her-
self, while Berry was stern and dignified
in anticipation of the glorious figure he
was to make in serving.
6


II
A FAREWELL DINNER
MAURICE OAKLEY was not a man
of sudden or violent enthusiasms.
Conservatism was the quality that had
been the foundation of his fortunes at a
time when the disruption of the country
had involved most of the men of his region
in ruin.
Without giving any one ground to charge
him with being lukewarm or renegade to
his cause, he had yet so adroitly managed
his affairs that when peace came he was
able quickly to recover much of the ground
lost during the war. With a rare genius
for adapting himself to new conditions, he
accepted the changed order of things with
a passive resignation, but with a stern
determination to make the most out of
any good that might be in it.
8


A FAREWELL DINNER
It was a favourite remark of his that
there must be some good in every system,
and it was the duty of the citizen to find
out that good and make it pay. He had
done this. His house, his reputation, his
satisfaction, were all evidences that he had
succeeded.
A childless man, he bestowed upon his
younger brother, Francis, the enthusiasm
he would have given to a son. His wife
shared with her husband this feeling for
her brother-in-law, and with him played
the role of parent, which had otherwise
been denied her.
It was true that Francis Oakley was
only a half-brother to Maurice, the son of
a second and not too fortunate marriage,
but there was no halving of the love which
the elder man had given to him from child-
hood up.
At the first intimation that Francis had
artistic ability, his brother had placed him
under the best masters in America, and
later, when the promise of his youth had
9


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
begun to blossom, he sent him to Paris,
although the expenditure just at that time
demanded a sacrifice which might have
been the ruin of Maurice's own career.
Francis's promise had never come to entire
fulfilment. He was always trembling on
the verge of a great success without quite
plunging into it. Despite the joy which his
presence gave his brother and sister-in-law,
most of his time was spent abroad, where
he could find just the atmosphere that
suited his delicate, artistic nature. After
a visit of two months he was about return-
ing to Paris for a stay of five years. At
last he was going to apply himself steadily
and try to be less the dilettante.
The company which Maurice Oakley
brought together to say good-bye to his
brother on this occasion was drawn from
the best that this fine old Southern town
afforded. There were colonels there at
whose titles and the owners' rights to them
no one could laugh; there were brilliant
women there who had queened it in Rich-
10


A FAREWELL DINNER
mond, Baltimore, Louisville, and New Or-
leans, and every Southern capital under
the old regime, and there were younger
ones there of wit and beauty who were
just beginning to hold their court. For
Francis was a great favourite both with
men and women. He was a handsome
man, tall, slender, and graceful. He had
the face and brow of a poet, a pallid face
framed in a mass of dark hair. There was
a touch of weakness in his mouth, but this
was shaded and half hidden by a full mus-
tache that made much forgivable to beauty-
loving eyes.
It was generally conceded that Mrs.
Oakley was a hostess whose guests had no
awkward half-hour before dinner. No
praise could be higher than this, and to-
night she had no need to exert herself to
maintain this reputation. Her brother-in-
law was the life of the assembly; he had
wit and daring, and about him there was
just that hint of charming danger that made
him irresistible to women. The guests heard
11


A FAREWELL DINNER
talents. They had perfect faith in the
strength of his manhood, of course; but
could they have had their way, it would
have been their will to hedge him about
so that no breath of evil invitation could
have come nigh to him.
But this younger brother, this half ward
of theirs, was an unruly member. He
talked and laughed, rode and walked, with
Claire Lessing with the same free abandon,
the same show of uninterested good com-
radeship, that he had used towards her
when they were boy and girl together.
There was not a shade more of warmth or
self-consciousness in his manner towards her
than there had been fifteen years before.
In fact, there was less, for there had
been a time, when he was six and Claire
three, that Francis, with a boldness that
the lover of maturer years tries vainly
to attain, had announced to Claire that he
was going to marry her. But he had never
renewed this declaration when it came time
that it would carry weight with it.
13


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
They made a fine picture as they sat to-
gether to-night. One seeing them could
hardly help thinking on the instant that
they were made for each other. Something
in the woman's face, in her expression
perhaps, supplied a palpable lack in the
man. The strength of her mouth and chin
helped the weakness of his. She was the
sort of woman who, if ever he came to a
great moral crisis in his life, would be able
to save him if she were near. And yet he
was going away from her, giving up the
pearl that he had only to put out his hand
to take.
Some of these thoughts were in the
minds of the brother and sister now.
"Five years does seem a long while,"
Francis was saying, " but if a man accom-
plishes anything, after all, it seems only a
short time to look back upon."
"All time is short to look back upon.
It is the looking forward to it that counts.
It does n't, though, with a man, I suppose.
He's doing something all the while."
14


A FAREWELL DINNER
"Yes, a man is always doing something,
even if only waiting; but waiting is such
unheroic business."
"That is the part that usually falls to a
woman's lot. I have no doubt that some
dark-eyed mademoiselle is waiting for you
now."
Francis laughed and flushed hotly. Claire
noted the flush and wondered at it. Had
she indeed hit upon the real point? "Was
that the reason that he was so anxious to
get back to Paris? The thought struck a
chill through her gaiety. She did not want
to be suspicious, but what was the cause of
that tell-tale flush? He was not a man
easily disconcerted; then why so to-night?
But her companion talked on with such
innocent composure that she believed her-
self mistaken as to the reason for his
momentary confusion.
Someone cried gayly across the table to
her: " Oh, Miss Claire, you will not dare to
talk with such little awe to our friend
when he comes back with his ribbons and
15


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
his medals. Why, we shall all have to
bow to you, Frank!"
"You're wronging me, Esterton," said
Francis. "No foreign decoration could
ever be to me as much as the flower of
approval from the fair women of my own
State."
"Hear!" cried the ladies.
"Trust artists and poets to pay pretty
compliments, and this wily friend of mine
pays his at my expense."
"A good bit of generalship, that, Frank,"
an old military man broke in. "Esterton
opened the breach and you at once gal-
loped in. That's the highest art of war."
Claire was looking at her companion.
Had he meant the approval of the women,
or was it one woman that he cared for?
Had the speech had a hidden meaning for
her? She could never tell. She could
not understand this man who had been so
much to her for so long, and yet did not
seem to know it; who was full of romance
and fire and passion, and yet looked at her
16


A FAREWELL DINNER
beauty with the eyes of a mere comrade.
She sighed as she rose with the rest of the
women to leave the table.
The men lingered over their cigars.
The wine was old and the stories new.
What more could they ask? There was a
strong glow in Francis Oakley's face, and
his laugh was frequent and ringing. Some
discussion came up which sent him running
up to his room for a bit of evidence. When
he came down it was not to come directly
to the dining-room. He paused in the hall
and despatched a servant to bring his
brother to him.
Maurice found him standing weakly
against the railing of the stairs. Some-
thing in his air impressed his brother
strangely.
"What is it, Francis?" he questioned,
hurrying to him.
"I have just discovered a considerable
loss," was the reply in a grieved voice.
"If it is no worse than loss, I am glad;
but what is it?"
2 17


A FAREWELL DINNER
ulations, he had bade the last guest
good-bye.
Then he turned to his brother. "When
Leslie is in bed, come into the library. I
will wait for you there," he said, and
walked sadly away.
"Poor, foolish Frank," mused his
brother, "as if the loss could matter to
him."
19


THE THEFT
never very particular about the box. But
I did not know until I went to it to-night
that the last time I had opened it I had
forgotten to take the key out. It all
flashed over me in a second when I saw it
shining there. Even then I didn't sus-
pect anything. You don't know how I
felt to open that cabinet and find all my
money gone. It's awful."
"Don't worry. How much was there in
all?"
"Nine hundred and eighty-six dollars,
most of which, I am ashamed to say, I
had accepted from you."
"You have no right to talk that way,
Frank; you know I do not begrudge a
cent you want. I have never felt that my
father did quite right in leaving me the
bulk of the fortune; but we won't discuss
that now. What I want you to understand,
though, is that the money is yours as well
as mine, and you are always welcome to
it."
The artist shook his head. "No, Mau-
21


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
rice," he said, " I can accept no more from
you. I have already used up all my own
money and too much of yours in this hope-
less fight. I don't suppose I was ever cut
out for an artist, or I'd have done some-
thing really notable in this time, and would
not be a burden upon those who care for
me. No, I 'll give up going to Paris and
find some work to do."
"Frank, Frank, be silent. This is non-
sense. Give up your art? You shall not
do it. You shall go to Paris as usual.
Leslie and I have perfect faith in you.
You shall not give up on account of this
misfortune. What are the few paltry
dollars to me or to you?"
"Nothing, nothing, I know. It is n't
the money,it's the principle of the thing."
"Principle be hanged! You go back to
Paris to-morrow, just as you had planned.
I do not ask it, I command it."
The younger man looked up quickly.
"Pardon me, Frank, for using those
words and at such a time. You know
22


THE THEFT
how near my heart your success lies, and to
hear you talk of giving it all up makes me
forget myself. Forgive me, but you 'll go
back, won't you?"
"You are too good, Maurice," said
Frank impulsively, "and I will go back,
and I 'll try to redeem myself."
"There is no redeeming of yourself to do,
my dear boy; all you have to do is to ma-
ture yourself. We'll have a detective
down and see what we can do in this
matter."
Frank gave a scarcely perceptible start.
"I do so hate such things," he said ; " and,
anyway, what's the use? They 'll never
find out where the stuff went to."
"Oh, you need not be troubled in this
matter. I know that such things must jar
on your delicate nature. But I am a plain
hard-headed business man, and I can
attend to it without distaste."
u But I hate to shove everything unpleas-
ant off on you. It's what I've been doing
all my life."
23


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"Never mind that. Now tell me, who
was the last person you remember in
your room?"
"Oh, Esterton was up there awhile be-
fore dinner. But he was not alone two
minutes."
"Why, he would be out of the question
anyway. Who else?"
"Hamilton was up yesterday."
"Alone?"
"Yes, for a while. His boy, Joe, shaved
me, and Jack was up for a while brushing
my clothes."
"Then it lies between Jack and Joe?"
Frank hesitated.
"Neither one was left alone, though."
"Then only Hamilton and Esterton have
been alone for any time in your room since
you left the key in your cabinet?"
"Those are the only ones of whom I
know anything. What others went in
during the day, of course, I know nothing
about. It could n't have been either Ester-
ton or Hamilton."
24


THE THEFT
"Not Esterton, no."
"And Hamilton is beyond suspicion."
"No servant is beyond suspicion."
"I would trust Hamilton anywhere,"
said Frank stoutly, "and with anything."
"That's noble of you, Frank, and I
would have done the same, but we must
remember that we are not in the old days
now. The negroes are becoming less
faithful and less contented, and more's the
pity, and a deal more ambitious, although
I have never had any unfaithfulness on
the part of Hamilton to complain of
before."
"Then do not condemn him now."
"I shall not condemn any one until I
have proof positive of his guilt or such
clear circumstantial evidence that my
reason is satisfied."
"I do not believe that you will ever
have that against old Hamilton."
"This spirit of trust does you credit,
Frank, and I very much hope that you
may be right. But as soon as a negro like
25


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
Hamilton learns the value of money and
begins to earn it, at the same time he be-
gins to covet some easy and rapid way of
securing it. The old negro knew nothing
of the value of money. When he stole, he
stole hams and bacon and chickens. These
were his immediate necessities and the
things he valued. The present laughs at
this tendency without knowing the cause.
The present negro resents the laugh, and
he has learned to value other things than
those which satisfy his belly."
Frank looked bored.
"But pardon me for boring you. I know
you want to go to bed. Go and leave
everything to me."
The young man reluctantly withdrew,
and Maurice went to the telephone and
rung up the police station.
As Maurice had said, he was a plain,
hard-headed business man, and it took very
few words for him to put the Chief of
Police in possession of the principal facts
of the case. A detective was detailed to
26


THE THEFT
take charge of the case, and was started
immediately, so that he might be upon the
ground as soon after the commission of the
crime as possible.
When he came he insisted that if he was
to do anything he must question the robbed
man and search his room at once. Oakley
protested, but the detective was adamant.
Even now the presence in the room of a
man uninitiated into the mysteries of crim-
inal methods might be destroying the last
vestige of a really important clue. The
master of the house had no alternative
save to yield. Together they went to the
artist's room. A light shone out through
the crack under the door.
"I am sorry to disturb you again, Frank,
but may we come in?"
"Who is with you?"
"The detective."
"I did not know he was to come to-
night."
"The chief thought it better."
"All right in a moment."
27


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
There was a sound of moving around,
and in a short time the young fellow,
partly undressed, opened the door.
To the detective's questions he answered
in substance what he had told before. He
also brought out the cabinet. It was a
strong oak box, uncarven, but bound at the
edges with brass. The key was still in the
lock, where Frank had left it on discover-
ing his loss. They raised the lid. The
cabinet contained two compartments, one
for letters and a smaller one for jewels and
trinkets.
"When you opened this cabinet, your
money was gone?"
"Yes."
"Were any of your papers touched?"
"No."
"How about your jewels?"
"I have but few and they were else-
where."
'The detective examined the room care-
fully, its approaches, and the hall-ways
without. He paused knowingly at a win-
28


THE THEFT
dow that overlooked the flat top of a
porch.
"Do you ever leave this window open?"
"It is almost always so.''
"Is this porch on the front of the
house?"
"No, on the side."
"What else is out that way?"
Frank and Maurice looked at each other.
The younger man hesitated and put his
hand to his head. Maurice answered
grimly, "My butler's cottage is on that
side and a little way back."
"Uh huh! and your butler is, I believe,
the Hamilton whom the young gentleman
mentioned some time ago."
"Yes."
Frank's face was really very white now.
The detective nodded again.
"I think I have a clue," he said simply.
"I will be here again to-morrow morning."
"But I shall be gone," said Frank.
"You will hardly be needed, anyway."
The artist gave a sigh of relief. He
29


THE SPORT OF THE GOBS
hated to be involved in unpleasant things.
He went as far as the outer door with his
brother and the detective. As he bade the
officer good-night and hurried up the hall,
Frank put his hand to his head again with
a convulsive gesture, as if struck by a
sudden pain.
"Come, come, Frank, you must take a
drink now and go to bed," said Oakley.
"I am completely unnerved."
"I know it, and I am no less shocked
than you. But we've got to face it like
men."
They passed into the dining-room, where
Maurice poured out some brandy for his
brother and himself. "Who would have
thought it?" he asked, as he tossed his
own down.
"Not I. I had hoped against hope up
until the last that it would turn out to be a
mistake."
"Nothing angers me so much as being
deceived by the man I have helped and
trusted. I should feel the sting of all this
30


THE THEFT
much less if the thief had come from the
outside, broken in, and robbed me, but this,
after all these years, is too low."
"Don't be hard on a man, Maurice; one
never knows what prompts him to a deed.
And this evidence is all circumstantial."
"It is plain enough for me. You are
entirely too kind-hearted, Frank. But I
see that this thing has worn you out.
You must not stand here talking. Go to
bed, for you must be fresh for to-morrow
morning's journey to New York."
Frank Oakley turned away towards his
room. His face was haggard, and he stag-
gered as he walked. His brother looked
after him with a pitying and affectionate
gaze.
"Poor fellow," he said, " he is so deli-
cately constructed that he cannot stand
such shocks as these ;" and then he added:
"To think of that black hound's treachery!
I 'll give him all that the law sets down
for him."
He found Mrs. Oakley asleep when he
31


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
reached the room, but he awakened her to
tell her the story. She was horror-struck.
It was hard to have to believe this awful
thing of an old servant, but she agreed
with him that Hamilton must be made an
example of when the time came. Before
that, however, he must not know that he
was suspected.
They fell asleep, he with thoughts of
anger and revenge, and she grieved and
disappointed.
32


IV
FROM A CLEAR SKY
THE inmates of the Oakley house had
not been long in their beds before
Hamilton was out of his and rousing his
own little household.
"You, Joe," he called to his son, "git
up f'om daih an' come right hyeah. You
got to he'p me befo' you go to any shop dis
mo'nin'. You, Kitty, stir yo' stumps, miss.
I know yo' ma's a-dressin' now. Ef she
ain't, I bet I 'll be aftah huh in a minute,
too. You all layin' 'roun', snoozin' w'en
you all des' pint'ly know dis is de mo'nin'
Mistah Frank go 'way f'om hyeah."
It was a cool Autumn morning, fresh
and dew-washed. The sun was just rising,
and a cool clear breeze was blowing across
the land. The blue smoke from the " house,"
3 33


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
where the fire was already going, whirled
fantastically over the roofs like a belated
ghost. It was just the morning to doze in
comfort, and so thought all of Berry's
household except himself. Loud was the
complaining as they threw themselves out
of bed. They maintained that it was an
altogether unearthly hour to get up. Even
Mrs. Hamilton added her protest, until she
suddenly remembered what morning it was,
when she hurried into her clothes and set
about getting the family's breakfast.
The good-humour of all of them returned
when they were seated about their table
with some of the good things of the night
before set out, and the talk ran cheerily
around.
"I do declaih," said Hamilton, "you
all's as bad as dem white people was las'
night. De way dey waded into dat food
was a caution." He chuckled with delight
at the recollection.
"I reckon dat's what dey come fu'. I
was n't payin' so much 'tention to what dey
34


FROM A CLEAR SKY
eat as to de way dem women was dressed.
Why, Mis' Jedge Hill was des' mo'n
go'geous."
"Oh, yes, ma, an' Miss Lessing was n't
no ways behin' her," put in Kitty.
Joe did not condescend to join in the
conversation, but contented himself with
devouring the good things and aping the
manners of the young men whom he knew
had been among last night's guests.
"Well, I got to be goin'," said Berry, ris-
ing. "There 'll be early breakfas' at de
'house' dis mo'nin', so's Mistah Frank kin
ketch de fus' train."
He went out cheerily to his work. No
shadow of impending disaster depressed his
spirits. No cloud obscured his sky. He
was a simple, easy man, and he saw noth-
ing in the manner of the people whom he
served that morning at breakfast save a
natural grief at parting from each other.
He did not even take the trouble to inquire
who the strange white man was who hung
about the place.
35


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
When it came time for the young man
to leave, with the privilege of an old servi-
tor Berry went up to him to bid him good-
bye. He held out his hand to him, and with
a glance at his brother, Frank took it and
shook it cordially. "Good-bye, Berry," he
said. Maurice could hardly restrain his
anger at the sight, but his wife was moved
to tears at her brother-in-law's generosity.
The last sight they saw as the carriage
rolled away towards the station was Berry
standing upon the steps waving a hearty
farewell and god-speed.
"How could you do it, Frank?" gasped
his brother, as soon as they had driven well
out of hearing.
"Hush, Maurice," said Mrs. Oakley
gently; "I think it was very noble of
him."
"Oh, I felt sorry for the poor fellow,"
was Frank's reply. "Promise me you
won't be too hard on him, Maurice. Give
him a little scare and let him go. He's
possibly buried the money, anyhow."
36


FROM A CLEAR SKY
"I shall deal with him as he deserves."
The young man sighed and was silent
the rest of the way.
"Whether I fail or succeed, you will
always think well of me, Maurice?" he
said in parting; " and if I don't come up to
your expectations, well — forgive me —
that's all."
His brother wrung his hand. "You will
always come up to my expectations, Frank,"
he said. "Won't he, Leslie?"
"He will always be our Frank, our good,
generous-hearted, noble boy. God bless
him!"
The young fellow bade them a hearty
good-bye, and they, knowing what his feel-
ings must be, spared him the prolonging of
the strain. They waited in the carriage,
and he waved to them as the train rolled
out of the station.
"He seems to be sad at going," said Mrs.
Oakley.
"Poor fellow, the affair of last night
has broken him up considerably, but I 'll
37


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
make Berry pay for every pang of anxiety
that my brother has suffered."
"Don't be revengeful, Maurice; you
know what brother Frank asked of you."
"He is gone and will never know what
happens, so I may be as revengeful as I
wish."
The detective was waiting on the lawn
when Maurice Oakley returned. They
went immediately to the library, Oakley
walking with the firm, hard tread of a man
who is both exasperated and determined,
and the officer gliding along with the cat-
like step which is one of the attributes of
his profession.
"Well ?" was the impatient man's ques-
tion as soon as the door closed upon them.
"I have some more information that may
or may not be of importance."
"Out with it; maybe I can tell."
"First, let me ask if you had any
reason to believe that your butler had any
resources of his own, say to the amount of
three or four hundred dollars?" .
38


FROM A CLEAR SKY
"Certainly not. I pay him thirty dollars
a month, and his wife fifteen dollars, and
with keeping up his lodges and the way he
dresses that girl, he can't save very much."
"You know that he has money in the
bank?"
"No."
"Well, he has. Over eight hundred
dollars."
"What? Berry? It must be the pick-
ings of years."
"And yesterday it was increased by five
hundred more."
"The scoundrel!"
"How was your brother's money, in
bills?"
"It was in large bills and gold, with
some silver."
"Berry's money was almost all in bills
of a small denomination and silver."
"A poor trick; it could easily have been
changed."
"Not such a sum without exciting
comment."
39


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"He may have gone to several places."
"But he had only a day to do it in."
"Then some one must have been his
accomplice."
"That remains to be proven."
"Nothing remains to be proven. Why,
it's as clear as day that the money he has
is the result of a long series of peculations,
and that this last is the result of his first
large theft."
"That must be made clear to the law."
«It shall be."
"I should advise, though, no open pro-
ceedings against this servant until further
evidence to establish his guilt is found."
"If the evidence satisfies me, it must be
sufficient to satisfy any ordinary jury. I
demand his immediate arrest."
"As you will, sir. Will you have him
called here and question him, or will you
let me question him at once?"
"Yes."
Oakley struck the bell, and Berry him-
self answered it.
40


FROM A CLEAR SKY
"You 're just the man we want," said
Oakley, shortly.
Berry looked astonished.
"Shall I question him," asked the offi-
cer, "or will you?"
"I will. Berry, you deposited five hun-
dred dollars at the bank yesterday?"
"Well, suh, Mistah Oakley," was the
grinning reply, "ef you ain't de beat-
enes' man to fin' out things I evah
seen."
The employer half rose from his chair.
His face was livid with anger. But at a
sign from the detective he strove to calm
himself.
"You had better let me talk to Berry,
Mr. Oakley," said the officer.
Oakley nodded. Berry was looking dis-
tressed and excited. He seemed not to
understand it at all.
"Berry," the officer pursued, " you ad-
mit having deposited five hundred dollars
in the bank yesterday?"
"Sut'ny. Dey ain't no reason why I
41


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
should n't admit it, 'ceptin' erroun' ermong
dese jealous niggahs."
"Uh huh! well, now, where did you get
this money?"
"Why, I wo'ked fu' it, o' co'se, whaih
you s'pose I got it? 'Tain't drappin' off
trees, I reckon, not roun' dis pa't of de
country."
"You worked for it? You must have
done a pretty big job to have got so much
money all in a lump?"
"But I did n't git it in a lump. Why,
man, I've been savin' dat money fu mo'n
fo' yeahs."
"More than four years? Why did n't
you put it in the bank as you got it?"
"Why, mos'ly it was too small, an' so I
des' kep' it in a ol' sock. I tol' Fannie dat
some day ef de bank did n't bus' wid all de
res' I had, I'd put it in too. She was alius
sayin' it was too much to have layin'
'roun' de house. But I des' tol' huh dat
no robber wasn't goin' to bothah de po'
niggah down in de ya'd wid de rich white
42


FROM A CLEAR SKY
man up at de house. But fin'lly I listened
to huh an' sposited it yistiddy."
"You 're a liar! you 're a liar, you black
thief!" Oakley broke in impetuously.
"You have learned your lesson well, but
you can't cheat me. I know where that
money came from."
"Calm yourself, Mr. Oakley, calm your-
self."
"I will not calm myself. Take him away.
He shall not stand here and lie to me."
Berry had suddenly turned ashen.
"You say you know whaih dat money
comef'om?. Whaih?"
"You stole it, you thief, from my brother
Frank's room."
"Stole it! My Gawd, Mistah Oakley,
you believed a thing lak dat aftah all de
yeahs I been wid you?"
"You've been stealing all along."
"Why, what shell I do ?" said the ser-
vant helplessly. "I tell you, Mistah Oak-
ley, ask Fannie. She 'll know how long I
been a-savin' dis money."
43


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
« I '11 ask no one."
"I think it would be better to call his
wife, Oakley."
"Well, call her, but let this matter be
done with soon."
Fannie was summoned, and when the
matter was explained to her, first gave
evidences of giving way to grief, but when
the detective began to question her, she
calmed herself and answered directly just
as her husband had.
"Well posted," sneered Oakley. "Arrest
that man."
Berry had begun to look more hopeful
during Fannie's recital, but now the ashen
look came back into his face. At the word
"arrest" his wife collapsed utterly, and
sobbed on her husband's shoulder.
"Send the woman away."
"I won't go," cried Fannie stoutly; "I'll
stay right hyeah by my husband. You
sha'n't drive me away f'om him."
Berry turned to his employer. "You b'-
lieve dat I stole f'om dis house aftah all de
44


FROM A CLEAR SKY
yeahs I've been in it, aftah de caih I took
of yo' money an' yo' valybles, aftah de
way I 've put you to bed f'om many a
dinnah, an' you woke up to fin' all yo'
money safe? Now, can you b'lieve dis?"
His voice broke, and be ended with a
cry.
"Yes, I believe it, you thief, yes. Take
him away."
Berry's eyes were bloodshot as he re-
plied, "Den, damn you! damn you! ef
dat's all dese yeahs counted fu', I wish I
had a-stoled it."
Oakley made a step forward, and his
man did likewise, but the officer stepped
between them.
"Take that damned hound away, or, by
God! I 'll do him violence!"
The two men stood fiercely facing each
other, then the handcuffs were snapped on
the servant's wrist.
"No, no," shrieked Fannie, "you
must n't, you must n't. Oh, my Gawd ! he
ain't no thief. I'll go to Mis' Oakley.
45


THE SPORT OF THE GOBS
She nevah will believe it." She sped from
the room.
The commotion had called a crowd of
curious servants into the hall. Fannie
hardly saw them as she dashed among
them, crying for her mistress. In a moment
she returned, dragging Mrs. Oakley by the
hand.
"Tell 'em, oh, tell 'em, Miss Leslie, dat
you don't believe it. Don't let 'em 'rest
Berry."
"Why, Fannie, I can't do anything. It
all seems perfectly plain, and Mr. Oakley
knows better than any of us, you know."
Fannie, her last hope gone, flung herself
on the floor, crying, "O Gawd! 0 Gawd!
he's gone fu' sho'!"
Her husband bent over her, the tears
dropping from his eyes. "Nevah min',
Fannie," he said, "nevah min'. Hit's
boun' to come out all right."
She raised her head, and seizing his man-
acled hands pressed them to her breast,
wailing in a low monotone," Gone! gone!"
46


FROM A CLEAR SKY
They disengaged her hands, and led
Berry away.
"Take her out," said Oakley sternly to
the servants; and they lifted her up and
carried her away in a sort of dumb stupor
that was half a swoon.
They took her to her little cottage, and
laid her down until she could come to her-
self and the full horror of her situation
burst upon her.
47


V
THE JUSTICE OF MEN
THE arrest of Berry Hamilton on the
charge preferred by his employer was
the cause of unusual commotion in the
town. Both the accuser and the accused
were well known to the citizens, white and
black, — Maurice Oakley as a solid man of
business, and Berry as an honest, sensible
negro, and the pink of good servants.
The evening papers had a full story of the
crime, which closed by saying that the
prisoner had amassed a considerable sum
of money, it was very likely from a long
series of smaller peculations.
It seems a strange irony upon the force
of right living, that this man, who had
never been arrested before, who had never
even been suspected of wrong-doing, should
find so few who even at the first telling
48


THE JUSTICE OF MEN
doubted the story of his guilt. Many
people began to remember things that had
looked particularly suspicious in his deal-
ings. Some others said, " I did n't think it
of him." There were only a few who
dared to say, "I don't believe it of
him."
The first act of his lodge, " The Tribe
of Benjamin," whose treasurer he was, was
to have his accounts audited, when they
should have been visiting him with com-
fort, and they seemed personally grieved
when his books were found to be straight.
The A. M. E. church, of which he had been
an honest and active member, hastened to
disavow sympathy with him, and to purge
itself of contamination by turning him out.
His friends were afraid to visit him and
were silent when his enemies gloated. On
every side one might have asked, Where is
charity? and gone away empty.
In the black people of the town the
strong influence of slavery was still oper-
ative, and with one accord they turned
4 49


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
away from one of their own kind upon
whom had been set the ban of the white
people's displeasure. If they had sympathy,
they dared not show it. Their own interests,
the safety of their own positions and fire-
sides, demanded that they stand aloof from
the criminal. Not then, not now, nor has
it ever been true, although it has been
claimed, that negroes either harbour or
sympathise with the criminal of their
kind. They did not dare to do it before
the sixties. They do not dare to do it now.
They have brought down as a heritage
from the days of their bondage both fear
and disloyalty. So Berry was unbef riended
while the storm raged around him. The
cell where they had placed him was kind
to him, and he could not hear the envious
and sneering comments that went on about
him. This was kind, for the tongues of
his enemies were not.
"Tell me, tell me," said one, "you
need n't tell me dat a bird kin fly so high
dat he don' have to come down some time.
50


THE JUSTICE OF MEN
An' w'en he do light, honey, my Lawd,
how he flop!"
"Mistah Rich Niggah," said another.
"He wanted to dress his wife an' chillen
lak white folks, did he? Well, he foun'
out, he foun' out. By de time de jedge
git thoo wid him he won't be hol'in' his
haid so high."
"W'y, dat gal o' his'n," broke in old Isaac
Brown indignantly, "w'y, she would n'
speak to my gal, Minty, when she met huh
on de street. I reckon she come down
off 'n huh high hoss now."
The fact of the matter was that Minty
Brown was no better than she should have
been, and did not deserve to be spoken to.
But none of this was taken into account
either by the speaker or the hearers. The
man was down, it was time to strike.
The women too joined their shrill voices
to the general cry, and were loud in their
abuse of the Hamiltons and in disparage-
ment of their high-toned airs.
"I knowed it, I knowed it," mumbled
51


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
one old crone, rolling her bleared and jeal-
ous eyes with glee. "W'enevah you see
niggahs gittin' so high dat dey own folks
ain' good enough fu' 'em, look out."
"Wy, la, Aunt Chloe, I knowed it too.
Dem people got so owdacious proud dat
dey would n't walk up to de collection
table no mo' at chu'ch, but alius set an'
waited twell de basket was passed erroun'."
"Hit's de livin' trufe, an' I's been seein'
it all 'long. I ain't said nuffin', but I
knowed what 'uz gwine to happen. 0l'
Chloe ain't lived all dese yeahs fu' nuffin',
an' ef she got de gif' o' secon' sight, 't ain't
fu' huh to say."
The women suddenly became interested
in this half assertion, and the old hag, see-
ing that she had made the desired impres-
sion, lapsed into silence.
The whites were not neglecting to re-
view and comment on the case also. It
had been long since so great a bit of wrong-
doing in a negro had given them cause for
speculation and recrimination.
52


THE JUSTICE OF MEN
"I tell you," said old Horace Talbot, who
was noted for his kindliness towards people
of colour, "I tell you, I pity that darky more
than I blame him. Now, here's my theory."
They were in the bar of the Continental
Hotel, and the old gentleman sipped his
liquor as he talked. "It's just like this:
The North thought they were doing a great
thing when they come down here and freed
all the slaves. They thought they were
doing a great thing, and I'm not saying a
word against them. I give them the credit
for having the courage of their convictions.
But I maintain that they were all wrong,
now, in turning these people loose upon the
country the way they did, without know-
ledge of what the first principle of liberty
was. The natural result is that these
people are irresponsible. They are unac-
quainted with the ways of our higher civi-
lisation, and it 'll take them a long time
to learn. You know Rome wasn't built
in a day. I know Berry, and I've known
him for a long while, and a politer, likelier
53


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
darky than him you would have to go far
to find. And I have n't the least doubt in
the world that he took that money abso-
lutely without a thought of wrong, sir,
absolutely. He saw it. He took it, and
to his mental process, that was the end of
it. To him there was no injury inflicted on
any one, there was no crime committed.
His elemental reasoning was simply this:
This man has more money than I have;
here is some of his surplus, — I 'll just take
it. Why, gentlemen, I maintain that that
man took that money with the same inno-
cence of purpose with which one of our
servants a few years ago would have ap-
propriated a stray ham."
"I disagree with you entirely, Mr. Tal-
bot," broke in Mr. Beachfield Davis, who
was a mighty hunter. — " Make mine the
same, Jerry, only add a little syrup. — I
disagree with you. It's simply total de-
pravity, that's all. All niggers are alike,
and there's no use trying to do anything
with them. Look at that man, Dodson, of
5i


THE JUSTICE OF MEN
mine. I had one of the finest young hounds
in the State. You know that white pup of
mine, Mr. Talbot, that I bought from
Hiram Gaskins? Mighty fine breed. Well,
I was spendin' all my time and patience
trainin' that dog in the daytime. At night
I put him in that nigger's care to feed and
bed. Well, do you know, I came home the
other night and found that black rascal
gone? I went out to see if the dog was
properly bedded, and by Jove, the dog was
gone too. Then I got suspicious. When
a nigger and a dog go out together at night,
one draws certain conclusions. I thought I
had heard bayin' way out towards the edge
of the town. So I stayed outside and
watched. In about an hour here came
Dodson with a possum hung over his
shoulder and my dog trottin' at his heels.
He 'd been possum huntin' with my hound
— with the finest hound in the State, sir.
Now, I appeal to you all, gentlemen, if
that ain't total depravity, what is total
depravity?"
55


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"Not total depravity, Beachfield, I main-
tain, but the very irresponsibility of which
I have spoken. Why, gentlemen, I foresee
the day when these people themselves shall
come to us Southerners of their own accord
and ask to be re-enslaved until such time
as they shall be fit for freedom." Old
Horace was nothing if not logical.
"Well, do you think there's any doubt
of the darky's guilt?" asked Colonel
Saunders hesitatingly. He was the only
man who had ever thought of such a possi-
bility. They turned on him as if he had
been some strange, unnatural animal.
"Any doubt!" cried Old Horace.
"Any doubt!" exclaimed Mr. Davis.
"Any doubt ?" almost shrieked the rest.
"Why, there can be no doubt. Why,
Colonel, what are you thinking of? Tell
us who has got the money if he has n't?
Tell us where on earth the nigger got the
money he's been putting in the bank?
Doubt? Why, there is n't the least doubt
about it."
56


THE JUSTICE OF MEN
"Certainly, certainly," said the Colonel,
"but I thought, of course, he might have
saved it. There are several of those people,
you know, who do a little business and
have bank accounts."
"Yes, but they are in some sort of busi-
ness. This man makes only thirty dollars
a month. Don't you see?"
The Colonel saw, or said he did. And
he did not answer what he might have
answered, that Berry had no rent and no
board to pay. His clothes came from his
master, and Kitty and Fannie looked to
their mistress for the larger number of
their supplies. He did not call to their
minds that Fannie herself made fifteen
dollars a month, and that for two years
Joe had been supporting himself. These
things did not come up, and as far as the
opinion of the gentlemen assembled in the
Continental bar went, Berry was already
proven guilty.
As for the prisoner himself, after the first
day when he had pleaded " Not guilty" and
57


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
been bound over to the Grand Jury, he had
fallen into a sort of dazed calm that was
like the stupor produced by a drug. He
took little heed of what went on around
him. The shock had been too sudden for
him, and it was as if his reason had been
for the time unseated. That it was not
permanently overthrown was evidenced by
his waking to the most acute pain and
grief whenever Fannie came to him. Then
he would toss and moan and give vent to
his sorrow in passionate complaints.
"I did n't tech his money, Fannie, you
know I didn't. I wo'ked fu' every cent
of dat money, an' I saved it myself. Oh,
I 'll nevah be able to git a job ag'in. Me in
de lock-up — me, aftah all dese yeahs!"
Beyond this, apparently, his mind could
not go. That his detention was anything
more than temporary never seemed to enter
his mind. That he would be convicted and
sentenced was as far from possibility as the
skies from the earth. If he saw visions of
a long sojourn in prison, it was only as a
58



THE JUSTICE OF MEN
nightmare half consciously experienced and
which with the struggle must give way
before the waking.
Fannie was utterly hopeless. She had
laid down whatever pride had been hers
and gone to plead with Maurice Oakley
for her husband's freedom, and she had seen
his hard, set face. She had gone upon her
knees before his wife to cite Berry's long
fidelity.
"Oh, Mis' Oakley," she cried, "ef he
did steal de money, we've got enough
saved to mek it good. Let him go! let
him go!"
"Then you admit that he did steal?"
Mrs. Oakley had taken her up sharply.
"Oh, I did n't say dat; I did n't mean
dat."
"That will do, Fannie. I understand
perfectly. You should have confessed
that long ago."
"But I ain't confessin'! I ain't! He
didn't"
"You may go.''
59


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
The stricken woman reeled out of her
mistress's presence, and Mrs. Oakley told
her husband that night, with tears in her
eyes, how disappointed she was with
Fannie, — that the woman had known it
all along, and had only just confessed. It
was just one more link in the chain that
was surely and not too slowly forging
itself about Berry Hamilton.
Of all the family Joe was the only one
who burned with a fierce indignation. He
knew that his father was innocent, and
his very helplessness made a fever in his
soul. Dandy as he was, he was loyal,
and when he saw his mother's tears and
his sister's shame, something rose within
him that had it been given play might
have made a man of him, but, being
crushed, died and rotted, and in the
compost it made all the evil of his nature
flourished. The looks and gibes of his
fellow-employees at the barber-shop forced
him to leave his work there. Kit, bowed
with shame and grief, dared not appear
60


THE JUSTICE OF MEN
upon the streets, where the girls who
had envied her now hooted at her. So
the little family was shut in upon itself
away from fellowship and sympathy.
Joe went seldom to see his father. He
was not heartless; but the citadel of his
long desired and much vaunted manhood
trembled before the sight of his father's
abject misery. The lines came round his
lips, and lines too must have come round
his heart. Poor fellow, he was too young
for this forcing process, and in the hot-
house of pain he only grew an acrid,
unripe cynic.
At the sitting of the Grand Jury Berry
was indicted. His trial followed soon,
and the town turned out to see it. Some
came to laugh and scoff, but these, his
enemies, were silenced by the spectacle of
his grief. In vain the lawyer whom he had
secured showed that the evidence against
him proved nothing. In vain he produced
proof of the slow accumulation of what the
man had. In vain he pleaded the man's
61


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
former good name. The judge and the
jury saw otherwise. Berry was convicted.
He was given ten years at hard labour.
He hardly looked as if he could live out
one as he heard his sentence. But Nature
was kind and relieved him of the strain.
With a cry as if his heart were bursting,
he started up and fell forward on his face
unconscious. Some one, a bit more
brutal than the rest, said, "It's five
dollars' fine every time a nigger faints,"
but no one laughed. There was something
too portentous, too tragic in the degrada-
tion of this man.
Maurice Oakley sat in the court-room,
grim and relentless. As soon as the trial
was over, he sent for Fannie, who still
kept the cottage in the yard.
"You must go," he said. "You can't
stay here any longer. I want none of
your breed about me."
And Fannie bowed her head and went
away from him in silence.
All the night long the women of the
62


THE JUSTICE OF MEN
Hamilton household lay in bed and wept,
clinging to each other in their grief. But
Joe did not go to sleep. Against all their
entreaties, he stayed up. He put out the
light and sat staring into the gloom with
hard, burning eyes.
63


VI
OUTCASTS
WHAT particularly irritated Maurice
Oakley was that Berry should to
the very last keep up his claim of innocence.
He reiterated it to the very moment that
the train which was bearing him away
pulled out of the station. There had
seldom been seen such an example of
criminal hardihood, and Oakley was
hardened thereby to greater severity in
dealing with the convict's wife. He
began to urge her more strongly to move,
and she, dispirited and humiliated by what
had come to her, looked vainly about for
the way to satisfy his demands. With
her natural protector gone, she felt more
weak and helpless than she had thought
it possible to feel. It was hard enough to
face the world. But to have to ask some-
64



OUTCASTS
thing of it was almost more than she could
bear.
With the conviction of her husband the
last five hundred dollars had been con-
fiscated as belonging to the stolen money,
but their former deposit remained un-
touched. With this she had the means at
her disposal to tide over their present days
of misfortune. It was not money she
lacked, but confidence. Some inkling of
the world's attitude towards her, guiltless
though she was, reached her and made
her afraid.
Her desperation, however, would not
let her give way to fear, so she set forth
to look for another house. Joe and Kit
saw her go as if she were starting on an
expedition into a strange country. In all
their lives they had known no home save
the little cottage in Oakley's yard. Here
they had toddled as babies and played as
children and been happy and care-free.
There had been times when they had com-
plained and wanted a home off by them-
5 65


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
selves, like others whom they knew. They
had not failed, either, to draw unpleasant
comparisons between their mode of life
and the old plantation quarters system.
But now all this was forgotten, and there
were only grief and anxiety that they must
leave the place and in such a way.
Fannie went out with little hope in her
heart, and a short while after she was
gone Joe decided to follow her and make
an attempt to get work.
"I 'll go an' see what I kin do, anyway,
Kit. 'T ain't much use, I reckon, trying
to get into a bahbah shop where they
shave white folks, because all the white
folks are down on us. 11l try one of the
coloured shops."
This was something of a condescension
for Berry Hamilton's son. He had never
yet shaved a black chin or put shears to
what he termed " naps," and he was proud
of it. He thought, though, that after the
training he had received from the superior
"Tonsorial Parlours " where he had been
66


OUTCASTS
employed, he had hut to ask for a place
and he would be gladly accepted.
It is strange how all the foolish little
vaunting things that a man says in days
of prosperity wax a giant crop around
him in the days of his adversity. Berry
Hamilton's son found this out almost as
soon as he had applied at the first of the
coloured shops for work.
"Oh, no, suh," said the proprietor, "I
don't think we got anything fu' you to do;
you 're a white man's bahbah. We don't
shave nothin' but niggahs hyeah, an' we
shave 'em in de light o' day an' on de
groun'flo'."
"W'y, I hyeah you say dat you could n't
git a paih of sheahs thoo a niggah's naps.
You ain't been practisin' lately, has you?"
came from the back of the shop, where a
grinning negro was scraping a fellow's
face.
"Oh, yes, you 're done with burr-heads,
are you? But burr-heads are good enough
fu' you now."
67


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"I think," the proprietor resumed," that
I hyeahed you say you was n't fond o' grape
pickin'. Well, Josy, my son, I would n't
begin it now, 'specially as anothah kin' o'
pickin' seems to run in yo' fambly."
Joe Hamilton never knew how he got
out of that shop. He only knew that he
found himself upon the street outside the
door, tears of anger and shame in his eyes,
and the laughs and taunts of his tormentors
still ringing in his ears.
It was cruel, of course it was cruel. It
was brutal. But only he knew how just
it had been. In his moments of pride he
had said all those things, half in fun and
half in earnest, and he began to wonder
how he could have been so many kinds of
a fool for so long without realising it.
He had not the heart to seek another
shop, for he knew that what would be
known at one would be equally well known
at all the rest. The hardest thing that he
had to bear was the knowledge that he
had shut himself out of all the chances
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OUTCASTS
that he now desired. He remembered with
a pang the words of an old negro to whom
he had once been impudent, "Nevah min',
boy, nevah min', you's bo'n, but you ain't
daid!"
It was too true. He had not known
then what would come. He had never
dreamed that anything so terrible could
overtake him. Even in his straits, how-
ever, desperation gave him a certain pluck.
He would try for something else for which
his own tongue had not disqualified him.
With Joe, to think was to do. He went
on to the Continental Hotel, where there
were almost always boys wanted to "run
the bells." The clerk looked him over
critically. He was a bright, spruce-look-
ing young fellow, and the man liked his
looks.
"Well, I guess we can take you on," he
said. "What's your name?"
"Joe," was the laconic answer. He was
afraid to say more.
"Well, Joe, you go over there and sit
69


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
where you see those fellows in uniform,
and wait until I call the head bellman.''
Young Hamilton went over and sat
down on a bench which ran along the
hotel corridor and where the bellmen were
wont to stay during the day awaiting their
calls. A few of the blue-coated Mercuries
were there. Upon Joe's advent they began
to look askance at him and to talk among
themselves. He felt his face burning as
he thought of what they must be saying.
Then he saw the head bellman talking to
the clerk and looking in his direction.
He saw him shake his head and walk away.
He could have cursed him. The clerk
called to him.
"I didn't know," he said, —"I didn't
know that you were Berry Hamilton's boy.
Now, I've got nothing against you myself.
I don't hold you responsible for what your
father did, but I don't believe our boys
would work with you. I can't take you
on."
Joe turned away to meet the grinning
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OUTCASTS
or contemptuous glances of the bellmen on
the seat. It would have been good to be
able to hurl something among them. But
he was helpless.
He hastened out of the hotel, feeling
that every eye was upon him, every fin-
ger pointing at him, every tongue whis-
pering, "There goes Joe Hamilton, whose
father went to the penitentiary the other
day."
What should he do? He could try no
more. He was proscribed, and the letters
of his ban were writ large throughout the
town, where all who ran might read. For
a while he wandered aimlessly about and
then turned dejectedly homeward. His
mother had not yet come.
"Did you get a job?" was Kit's first
question.
"No," he answered bitterly, "no one
wants me now."
"No one wants you? Why, Joe — they
:— they don't think hard of us, do they?"
"I don't know what they think of ma
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OUTCASTS
crying, "Oh, where are we going to live,
ma?"
Fannie looked at her for a moment,
and then answered with a burst of tears,
"Gawd knows, child, Gawd knows."
The girl stepped back astonished.
"Why, why!" and then with a rush of
tenderness she threw her arms about her
mother's neck. "Oh, you 're tired to
death," she said; "that's what's the matter
with you. Never mind about the house
now. I've got some tea made for you,
and you just take a cup."
Fannie sat down and tried to drink her
tea, but she could not. It stuck in her
throat, and the tears rolled down her face
and fell into the shaking cup. Joe looked
on silently. He had been out and he
understood.
"I'll go out to-morrow and do some
looking around for a house while you stay
at home an' rest, ma."
Her mother looked up, the maternal in-
stinct for the protection of her daughter at
73


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
once aroused. "Oh, no, not you, Kitty,"
she said.
Then for the first time Joe spoke:
"You'd just as well tell Kitty now, ma,
for she's got to come across it anyhow."
"What you know about it? Whaih you
been to?"
"I've been out huntin' work. I've
been to Jones's bahbah shop an' to the
Continental Hotel." His light-brown face
turned brick red with anger and shame at
the memory of it. "I don't think I'll try
any more."
Kitty was gazing with wide and sadden-
ing eyes at her mother.
"Were they mean to you too, ma?"
she asked breathlessly.
"Mean? Oh Kitty! Kitty! you don't
know what it was like. It nigh killed me.
Thaih was plenty of houses an' owned by
people I've knowed fu' yeahs, but not
one of 'em wanted to rent to me. Some
of 'em made excuses 'bout one thing er
t' other, but de res' come right straight out
74


OUTCASTS
an' said dat we'd give a neighbourhood a
bad name ef we moved into it. I've
almos' tramped my laigs off. I've tried
every decent place I could think of, but
nobody wants us."
The girl was standing with her hands
clenched nervously before her. It was
almost more than she could understand.
"Why, we ain't done anything," she
said. "Even if they don't know any
better than to believe that pa was guilty,
they know we ain't done anything."
"I'd like to cut the heart out of a few of
'em," said Joe in his throat.
"It ain't goin' to do no good to look at
it that a-way, Joe," his mother replied.
"I know hit's ha'd, but we got to do de
bes' we kin."
""What are we goin' to do?" cried the
boy fiercely. "They won't let us work.
They won't let us live anywhaih. Do they
want us to live on the levee an' steal, like
some of 'em do?"
"What are we goin' to do?" echoed
75


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
Kitty helplessly. "I'd go out ef I thought
I could find anythin' to work at."
"Don't you go anywhaih, child. It 'ud
only be worse. De niggah men dat ust
to be bowin' an' scrapin' to me an' tekin'
off dey hats to me laughed in my face. I
met Minty — an' she slurred me right in
de street. Dey'd do worse fu' you."
In the midst of the conversation a knock
came at the door. It was a messenger
from the "House," as they still called
Oakley's home, and he wanted them to be
out of the cottage by the next afternoon,
as the new servants were coming and would
want the rooms.
The message was so curt, so hard and
decisive, that Fannie was startled out of
her grief into immediate action.
"Well, we got to go," she said, rising
wearily.
"But where are we goin'?" wailed
Kitty in affright. "There's no place to
go to. We have n't got a house. Where 'll
we go?"
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OUTCASTS
"Out o' town someplace as fur away
from this damned hole as we kin git."
The boy spoke recklessly in his anger.
He had never sworn before his mother
before.
She looked at him in horror. "Joe,
Joe," she said, "you're mekin' it wuss.
You're mekin' it ha'dah fu' me to baih
when you talk dat a-way. What you mean?
Whaih you think Gawd is?"
Joe remained sullenly silent. His
mother's faith was too stalwart for his
comprehension. There was nothing like it
in his own soul to interpret it.
"We 'll git de secon'-han' dealah to tek
ouah things to-morrer, an' then we 'll go
away some place, up No'th maybe."
"Let's go to New York," said Joe.
"New Yo'k?"
They had heard of New York as a place
vague and far away, a city that, like
Heaven, to them had existed by faith alone.
All the days of their lives they had heard
of it, and it seemed to them the centre of
77


OUTCASTS
high and pay them sneer for sneer and jibe
for jibe.
The same night the commission was
given to the furniture dealer who would
take charge of their things and sell them
when and for what he could.
From his window the next morning
Maurice Oakley watched the wagon empty-
ing the house. Then he saw Fannie come
out and walk about her little garden, fol-
lowed by her children. He saw her as she
wiped her eyes and led the way to the side
gate.
"Well, they 're gone," he said to his
wife. "T wonder where they're going to
live?"
"Oh, some of their people will take
them in," replied Mrs. Oakley languidly.
Despite the fact that his mother carried
with her the rest of the money drawn from
the bank, Joe had suddenly stepped into
the place of the man of the family. He
attended to all the details of their getting
away with a promptness that made it seem
79


IN NEW YORK
she was a " big yellow woman." She had a
broad good-natured face and a tendency to
run to bust.
"Yes," she said, "I think I could ar-
range to take you. I could let you have
two rooms, and you could use my kitchen
until you decided whether you wanted to
take a flat or not. I has the whole house
myself, and I keeps roomers. But latah on
I could fix things so's you could have the
whole third floor ef you wanted to. Most
o' my gent'men's railroad gent'men, they
is. I guess it must 'a' been Mr. Thomas
that sent you up here."
"He was a little bright man down at de
deepo."
"Yes, that's him. That's Mr. Thomas.
He's always lookin' out to send some
one here, because he's been here three
years hisself an' he kin recommend my
house."
It was a relief to the Hamiltons to find
Mrs. Jones so gracious and home-like. So
the matter was settled, and they took up
85


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
their abode with her and sent for their
baggage.
With the first pause in the rush that they
had experienced since starting away from
home, Mrs. Hamilton began to have time
for reflection, and their condition seemed
to her much better as it was. Of course,
it was hard to be away from home and
among strangers, but the arrangement had
this advantage, — that no one knew them
or could taunt them with their past trouble.
She was not sure that she was going to
like New York. It had a great name and
was really a great place, but the very
bigness of it frightened her and made her
feel alone, for she knew that there could
not be so many people together without a
deal of wickedness. She did not argue
the complement of this, that the amount
of good would also be increased, but this
was because to her evil was the very
present factor in her life.
Joe and Kit were differently affected by
what they saw about them. The boy was
86


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
with a confident air born of an intense ad-
miration of himself. He was the idol of
a number of servant-girls' hearts, and
altogether a decidedly dashing back-area-
way Don Juan.
"I tell you, Miss Kitty," he burst forth,
a few minutes after being introduced, "they
ain't no use talkin', N' Yawk 'll give you a
shakin' up 'at you won't soon forget. It's
the only town on the face of the earth.
You kin bet your life they ain't no flies on
N' Yawk. We git the best shows here, we
git the best concerts — say, now, what's
the use o' my callin' it all out ? — we simply
git the best of everything."
"Great place," said Joe wisely, in what
he thought was going to be quite a man-
of-the-world manner. But he burned with
shame the next minute because his voice
sounded so weak and youthful. Then too
the oracle only said "Yes" to him, and
went on expatiating to Kitty on the glories
of the metropolis.
"D'jever see the statue o' Liberty?
90


IN NEW YORK
Great thing, the statue o' Liberty. I '11
take you 'round some day. An' Cooney
Island — oh, my, now that's the place;
and talk about fun! That's the place for
me."
"La, Thomas," Mrs. Jones put in, "how
you do run on! Why, the strangers 'll
think they 'll be talked to death before
they have time to breathe."
"Oh, I guess the folks understan' me.
I'm one o' them kin' o' men 'at believe in
whooping things up right from the begin-
ning. I'm never strange with anybody.
1 'm a N' Yawker, I tell you, from the
word go. I say, Mis' Jones, let's have
some beer, an' we 'll have some music
purty soon. There's a fellah in the house
'at plays c Rag-time ' out o' sight."
Mr. Thomas took the pail and went to
the corner. As he left the room, Mrs.
Jones slapped her knee and laughed until
her bust shook like jelly.
"Mr. Thomas is a case, sho'," she said;
"but he likes you all, an' I'm mighty glad
91


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
of it, fu' he's mighty curious about the
house when he don't like the roomers."
Joe felt distinctly nattered, for he found
their new acquaintance charming. His
mother was still a little doubtful, and
Kitty was sure she found the young man
"fresh."
He came in pretty soon with his beer,
and a half-dozen crabs in a bag.
"Thought I 'd bring home something to
chew. I always like to eat something with
my beer."
Mrs. Jones brought in the glasses, and
the young man filled one and turned to
Kitty.
"No, thanks," she said with a surprised
look.
"What, don't you drink beer? Oh,
come now, you 'll get out o' that."
"Kitty don't drink no beer," broke in
her mother with mild resentment. "I
drinks it sometimes, but she don't. I
reckon maybe de chillen better go to
bed."
92


IN NEW YORK
Joe felt as if the " chillen " had ruined
all his hopes, but Kitty rose.
The ingratiating "N' Yawker" was
aghast. i
"Oh, let 'em stay," said Mrs. Jones
heartily; "a little beer ain't goin' to hurt
'em. Why, sakes, I know my father gave
me beer from the time I could drink
it, and I knows I ain't none the worse
fu' it."
"They 'll git out o' that, all right, if they
live in N' Yawk," said Mr. Thomasy as he
poured out a glass and handed it to Joe.
"You neither?"
"Oh, I drink it," said the boy with an
air, but not looking at his mother.
"Joe," she cried to him, "you must
ricollect you ain't at home. What 'ud yo'
pa think?" Then she stopped suddenly,
and Joe gulped his beer and Kitty went to
the piano to relieve her embarrassment.
"Yes, that's it, Miss Kitty, sing us some-
thing," said the irrepressible Thomas, "an'
after while we'll have that fellah down
93


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
that plays 'Rag-time.' He's out o' sight,
I tell you."
With the pretty shyness of girlhood,
Kitty sang one or two little songs in the
simple manner she knew. Her voice was
full and rich. It delighted Mr. Thomas.
"I say, that's singin' now, I tell you,"
he cried. "You ought to have some o' the
new songs. D' jever hear ' Baby, you got
to leave'? I tell you, that's a hot one.
I'll bring you some of 'em. Why, you
could git a job on the stage easy with that
voice o' yourn. I got a frien' in one o'
the comp'nies an' I 'll speak to him about
you."
"You ought to git Mr. Thomas to take
you to the th'atre some night. He goes
lots."
"Why, yes, what's the matter with to-
morrer night? There's a good coon show
in town. Out o' sight. Let's all go."
"I ain't nevah been to nothin' lak dat,
an' I don't know," said Mrs. Hamilton.
"Aw, come, I 'll git the tickets an' we 'll
94


VIII
AN EVENING OUT
FANNIE HAMILTON, tired as she was,
sat long into the night with her little
family discussing New York, — its advan-
tages and disadvantages, its beauty and its
ugliness, its morality and immorality. She
had somewhat receded from her first posi-
tion, that it was better being here in the
great strange city than being at home
where the very streets shamed them. She
had not liked the way that their fellow
lodger looked at Kitty. It was bold, to
say the least. She was not pleased, either,
with their new acquaintance's familiarity.
And yet, he had said no more than some
stranger, if there could be such a stranger,
would have said down home. There was
a difference, however, which she recognised.
Thomas was not the provincial who puts
96


AN EVENING OUT
every one on a par with himself, nor was
he the metropolitan who complacently pat-
ronises the whole world. He was trained
out of the one and not up to the other.
The intermediate only succeeded in being
offensive. Mrs. Jones' assurance as to her
guest's fine qualities did not do all that
might have been expected to reassure Mrs.
Hamilton in the face of the difficulties of
the gentleman's manner.
She could not, however, lay her finger
on any particular point that would give
her the reason for rejecting his friendly
advances. She got ready the next even-
ing to go to the theatre with the rest.
Mr. Thomas at once possessed himself of
Kitty and walked on ahead, leaving Joe to
accompany his mother and Mrs. Jones, —
an arrangement, by the way, not altogether
to that young gentleman's taste. A good
many men bowed to Thomas in the street,
and they turned to look enviously after
him. At the door of the theatre they had
to run the gantlet of a dozen pairs of eyes.
7 97


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
Here, too, the party's guide seemed to be
well known, for some one said, before they
passed out of hearing, " I wonder who that
little light girl is that Thomas is with to-
night? He's a hot one for you."
Mrs. Hamilton had been in a theatre but
once before in her life, and Joe and Kit but
a few times oftener. On those occasions
they had sat far up in the peanut gallery
in the place reserved for people of colour.
This was not a pleasant, cleanly, nor beau-
tiful locality, and by contrast with it, even
the garishness of the cheap New York
theatre seemed fine and glorious.
They had good seats in the first balcony,
and here their guide had shown his mana-
gerial ability again, for he had found it
impossible, or said so, to get all the seats
together, so that he and the girl were in
the row in front and to one side of where
the rest sat. Kitty did not like the ar»
rangement, and innocently suggested that
her brother take her seat while she went
back to her mother. But her escort over-
98


AN EVENING OUT
ruled her objections easily, and laughed at
her so frankly that from very shame she
could not urge them again, and they were
soon forgotten in her wonder at the mys-
tery and glamour that envelops the home
of the drama. There was something weird
to her in the alternate spaces of light and
shade. Without any feeling of its ugli-
ness, she looked at the curtain as at a door
that should presently open between her and
a house of wonders. She looked at it with
the fascination that one always experiences
for what either brings near or withholds
the unknown.
As for Joe, he was not bothered by the
mystery or the glamour of things. But he
had suddenly raised himself in his own
estimation. He had gazed steadily at a
girl across the aisle until she had smiled in
response. Of course, he went hot and cold
by turns, and the sweat broke out on his
brow, but instantly he began to swell. He
had made a decided advance in knowledge,
and he swelled with the consciousness that
99


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
already he was coming to be a man of the
world. He looked with a new feeling at
the swaggering, sporty young negroes. His
attitude towards them was not one of hum-
ble self-depreciation any more. Since last
night he had grown, and felt that he might,
that he would, be like them, and it put a
sort of chuckling glee into his heart.
One might find it in him to feel sorry for
this small-souled, warped being, for he was
so evidently the jest of Fate, if it were not
that he was so blissfully, so conceitedly,
unconscious of his own nastiness. Down
home he had shaved the wild young bucks
of the town, and while doing it drunk in
eagerly their unguarded narrations of their
gay exploits. So he had started out with
false ideals as to what was fine and manly.
He was afflicted by a sort of moral and
mental astigmatism that made him see
everything wrong. As he sat there to-
night, he gave to all he saw a wrong value
and upon it based his ignorant desires.
When the men of the orchestra filed in
100


AN EVENING OUT
and began tuning their instruments, it was
the signal for an influx of loiterers from
the door. There were a large number of
coloured people in the audience, and because
members of their own race were giving the
performance, they seemed to take a proprie-
tary interest in it all. They discussed its
merits and demerits as they walked down
the aisle in much the same tone that the
owners would have used had they been
wondering whether the entertainment was
going to please the people or not.
Finally the music struck up one of the
numerous negro marches. It was accom-
panied by the rhythmic patting of feet from
all parts of the house. Then the curtain
went up on a scene of beauty. It purported
to be a grove to which a party of picnickers,
the ladies and gentlemen of the chorus, had
come for a holiday, and they were telling
the audience all about it in crescendos.
With the exception of one, who looked like
a faded kid glove, the men discarded the
grease paint, but the women under their
101


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
very confidential and his lips near her ear,
but she did not notice.
"Oh, yes," she answered, " this is grand.
How I'd like to be an actress and be up
there!"
"Maybe you will some day."
"Oh, no, I'm not smart enough."
"We 'll see," he said wisely; "I know a
thing or two."
Between the first and second acts a num-
ber of Thomas's friends strolled up to where
he sat and began talking, and again Kitty's
embarrassment took possession of her as
they were introduced one by one. They
treated her with a half-courteous famil-
iarity that made her blush. Her mother
was not pleased with the many acquaint-
ances that her daughter was making, and
would have interfered had not Mrs. Jones
assured her that the men clustered about
their host's seat were some of the "best
people in town." Joe looked at them
hungrily, but the man in front with his
sister did not think it necessary to include
104


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
the street corners down home, and then,
like a good, sensible, humble woman, she
came around to the idea that it was she
who had always been wrong in putting
too low a value on really worthy things.
So she laughed and applauded with the
rest, all the while trying to quiet some-
thing that was tugging at her away down
in her heart.
When the performance was over she
forced her way to Kitty's side, where she
remained in spite of all Thomas's palpable
efforts to get her away. Finally he pro-
posed that they all go to supper at one of
the coloured cafes.
"You'll see a lot o' the show people,"
he said.
"No, I reckon we'd bettah go home,"
said Mrs. Hamilton decidedly. "De
chillen ain't ust to stayin' up all hours
o' nights, an' I ain't anxious fu' 'em to git
ust to it."
She was conscious of a growing dislike
for this man who treated her daughter
106


AN EVENING OUT
with such a proprietary air. Joe winced
again at "de chillen."
Thomas bit his lip, and mentally said
things that are unfit for publication.
Aloud he said, "Mebbe Miss Kitty 'ud like
to go an' have a little lunch."
"Oh, no, thank you," said the girl;
"I've had a nice time and I don't care for
a thing to eat."
Joe told himself that Kitty was the
biggest fool that it had ever been his lot
to meet, and the disappointed suitor satis-
fied himself with the reflection that the
girl was green yet, but would get bravely
over that.
He attempted to hold her hand as they
parted at the parlour door, but she drew
her fingers out of his clasp and said,
"Good-night; thank you," as if he had
been one of her mother's old friends.
Joe lingered a little longer.
"Say, that was out o' sight," he said.
"Think so?" asked the other carelessly.
"I'd like to get out with you some
107


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
time to see the town," the boy went on
eagerly.
"All right, we 'll go some time. So
long."
"So long."
Some time. Was it true? Would he
really take him out and let him meet
stage people? Joe went to bed with his
head in a whirl. He slept little that
night for thinking of his heart's desire.
108


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
all that he wanted to be. Now Thomas
might take him out at any time and not
be ashamed of him.
With Thomas, the fact that Joe was
working put the boy in an entirely new
light. He decided that now he might be
worth cultivating. For a week or two he
had ignored him, and, proceeding upon
the principle that if you give corn to
the old hen she will cluck to her chicks,
had treated Mrs. Hamilton with marked
deference and kindness. This had been
without success, as both the girl and her
mother held themselves politely aloof from
him. He began to see that his hope of
winning Kitty's affections lay, not in
courting the older woman but in making
a friend of the boy. So on a certain
Saturday night when the Banner Club
was to give one of its smokers, he asked
Joe to go with him. Joe was glad
to, and they set out together. Arrived,
Thomas left his companion for a few
moments while he attended, as he said, to
110


HIS HEARTS DESIRE
a little business. What he really did was
to seek out the proprietor of the club and
some of its hangers on.
"I say," he said, "I've got a friend
with me to-night. He 's got some dough
on him. He's fresh and young and easy."
"Whew !" exclaimed the proprietor.
"Yes, he's a good thing, but push it
along kin' o' light at first; he might get
skittish."
"Thomas, let me fall on your bosom
and weep," said a young man who, on
account of his usual expression of innocent
gloom, was called Sadness. "This is
what I've been looking for for a month.
My hat was getting decidedly shabby. Do
you think he would stand for a touch on
the first night of our acquaintance?"
"Don't you dare? Do you want to
frighten him off? Make him believe that
you've got coin to burn and that it's an
honour to be with you."
"But, you know, he may expect a
glimpse of the gold."
ill


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"A smart man don't need to show
nothin'. All he's got to do is to act."
"Oh, I 'll act; we 'll all act."
"Be slow to take a drink from him."
"Thomas, my boy, you 're an angel. I
recognise that more and more every day,
but bid me do anything else but that.
That I refuse: it's against nature;" and
Sadness looked more mournful than ever.
"Trust old Sadness to do his part,"
said the portly proprietor; and Thomas
went back to the lamb.
"Nothin' doin' so early," he said ; " let's
go an' have a drink."
They went, and Thomas ordered.
"No, no, this is on me," cried Joe,
trembling with joy.
"Pshaw, your money's counterfeit,"
said his companion with fine generosity.
"This is on me, I say. Jack, what 'll you
have yourself?"
As they stood at the bar, the men began
strolling up one by one. Each in his turn
was introduced to Joe. They were very
112


HIS HEARTS DESIRE
polite. They treated him with a pale,
dignified, high-minded respect that menaced
his pocket-book and possessions. The pro-
prietor, Mr. Turner, asked him why he had
never been in before. He really seemed
much hurt about it, and on being told that
Joe had only been in the city for a couple
of weeks expressed emphatic surprise, even
disbelief, and assured the rest that any one
would have taken Mr. Hamilton for an
old New Yorker.
Sadness was introduced last. He bowed
to Joe's "Happy to know you, Mr.
Williams."
"Better known as Sadness," he said,
with an expression of deep gloom. "A
distant relative of mine once had a great
grief. I have never recovered from it."
Joe was not quite sure how to take
this; but the others laughed and he joined
them, and then, to cover his own embar-
rassment, he did what he thought the
only correct and manly thing to do, — he
ordered a drink.
s 113


BIS HEARTS DESIRE
he looked like a cousin of his that had
died.
"Aw, shut up, Sadness!" said some one
else. "Be respectable."
Sadness turned his mournful eyes upon
the speaker. "I won't," he replied.
"Being respectable is very nice as a
diversion, but it's tedious if done steadily."
Joe did not quite take this, so he ordered
another drink.
A group of young fellows came in and
passed up the stairs. "Shearing another
lamb?" said one of them significantly.
"Well, with that gang it will be well
done."
Thomas and Joe left the crowd after
a while, and went to the upper floor, where,
in a long, brilliantly lighted room, tables
were set out for drinking-parties. At one
end of the room was a piano, and a man
sat at it listlessly strumming some popular
air. The proprietor joined them pretty
soon, and steered them to a table opposite
the door.
115


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
and spent the hours until it was time to
go forth to bout or assignation. Here too
came sometimes the curious who wanted
to see something of the other side of life.
Among these, white visitors were not in-
frequent,— those who were young enough
to be fascinated by the bizarre, and those
who were old enough to know that it
was all in the game. Mr. Skaggs, of the
New York Universe, was one of the for-
mer class and a constant visitor, — he and
a "lady friend" called "Maudie," who
had a penchant for dancing to "Rag-time"
melodies as only the " puffessor" of such a
club can play them. Of course, the place
was a social cesspool, generating a poison-
ous miasma and reeking with the stench of
decayed and rotten moralities. There is
no defence to be made for it. But what
do you expect when false idealism and
J fevered ambition come face to face with
catering cupidity?
It was into this atmosphere that Thomas
had introduced the boy Joe, and he sat
118


HIS HEARTS DESIRE
there now by his side, firing his mind by
pointing out the different celebrities who
came in and telling highly flavoured stories
of their lives or doings. Joe heard things
that had never come within the range of
his mind before.
"Aw, there's Skaggsy an' Maudie —
Maudie's his girl, y' know, an' he's a re-
porter on the N' Yawk Universe. Fine
fellow, Skaggsy."
Maudie — a portly, voluptuous-looking
brunette — left her escort and went directly
to the space by the piano. Here she was
soon dancing with one of the coloured girls
who had come in.
Skaggs started to sit down alone at a
table, but Thomas called him, "Come over
here, Skaggsy."
In the moment that it took the young
man to reach them, Joe wondered if he
would ever reach that state when he could
call that white man Skaggsy and the girl
Maudie. The new-comer soon set all of
that at ease.
119


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
fighting for his very subsistence. But this
never troubled Skaggsy. He was a monu-
mental liar, and the saving quality about
him was that he calmly believed his own
lies while he was telling them, so no one
was hurt, for the deceiver was as much a
victim as the deceived. The boys who
knew him best used to say that when
Skaggs got started on one of his debauches
of lying, the Recording Angel always put
on an extra clerical force.
"Now look at Maudie," he went on;
"would you believe it that she was of a
fine, rich family, and that the coloured girl
she 'a dancing with now used to be her ser-
vant? She's just like me about that. Ab-
solutely no prejudice."
Joe was wide-eyed with wonder and ad-
miration, and he could n't understand the
amused expression on Thomas's face, nor
why he surreptitiously kicked him under
the table.
Finally the reporter went his way, and
Joe's sponsor explained to him that he was
122


HIS HEARTS DESIRE
not to take in what Skaggsy said, and that
there hadn't been a word of truth in it.
He ended with, " Everybody knows Maudie,
and that coloured girl is Mamie Lacey, and
never worked for anybody in her life.
Skaggsy's a good fellah, all right, but he's
the biggest liar in N' Yawk."
The boy was distinctly shocked. He
was n't sure but Thomas was jealous of
the attention the white man had shown
him and wished to belittle it. Anyway, he
did not thank him for destroying his
romance.
About eleven o'clock, when the people
began to drop in from the plays, the mas-
ter of ceremonies opened proceedings by
saying that " The free concert would now
begin, and he hoped that all present, ladies
included, would act like gentlemen, and not
forget the waiter. Mr. Meriweather will
now favour us with the latest coon song,
entitled' Come back to yo' Baby, Honey.'"
There was a patter of applause, and a
young negro came forward, and in a stri-
123


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
dent, music-hall voice, sung or rather re-
cited with many gestures the ditty. He
could n't have been much older than Joe,
but already his face was hard with dis-
sipation and foul knowledge. He gave
the song with all the rank suggestive-
ness that could be put into it. Joe looked
upon him as a hero. He was followed
by a little, brown-skinned fellow with an
immature Vandyke beard and a lisp. He
sung his own composition and was funny;
how much funnier than he himself knew
or intended, may not even be hinted
at. Then, while an instrumentalist, who
seemed to have a grudge against the
piano, was hammering out the opening bars
of a march, Joe's attention was attracted
by a woman entering the room, and from
that moment he heard no more of the con-
cert. Even when the master of ceremonies
announced with an air that, by special re-
quest, he himself would sing " Answer," —
the request was his own, — he did not draw
the attention of the boy away from the
124


HIS HEART'S DESIRE
yellow-skinned divinity who sat at a near
table, drinking whiskey straight.
She was a small girl, with fluffy dark
hair and good features. A tiny foot peeped
out from beneath her rattling silk skirts.
She was a good-looking young woman and
daintily made, though her face was no
longer youthful, and one might have
wished that with her complexion she had
not run to silk waists in magenta.
Joe, however, saw no fault in her. She
was altogether lovely to him, and his de-
light was the more poignant as he recog-
nised in her one of the girls he had seen
on the stage a couple of weeks ago. That
being true, nothing could keep her from
being glorious in his eyes, — not even the
grease-paint which adhered in unneat
patches to her face, nor her taste for
whiskey in its unreformed state. He
gazed at her in ecstasy until Thomas,
turning to see what had attracted him,
said with a laugh," Oh, it's Hattie Sterling.
Want to meet her?"
125


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
Again the young fellow was dumb.
Just then Hattie also noticed his in-
tent look, and nodded and beckoned to
Thomas.
"Come on," he said, rising.
"Oh, she didn't ask for me," cried Joe,
tremulous and eager.
His companion went away laughing.
"Who's your young friend?" asked
Hattie.
"A fellah from the South."
"Bring him over here."
Joe could hardly believe in his own good
luck, and his head, which was getting a
bit weak, was near collapsing when his
divinity asked him what he 'd have? He
began to protest, until she told the waiter
with an air of authority to make it a little
"'skey." Then she asked him for a cig-
arette, and began talking to him in a
pleasant, soothing way between puffs.
When the drinks came, she said to
Thomas, "Now, old man, you've been
awfully nice, but when you get your little
126


X
A VISITOR FROM HOME
MRS. HAMILTON began to question
very seriously whether she had
done the best thing in coming to New
York as she saw her son staying away
more and more and growing always farther
away from her and his sister. Had she
known how and where he spent his even-
ings, she would have had even greater
cause to question the wisdom of their trip.
She knew that although he worked he
never had any money for the house, and
she foresaw the time when the little they
had would no longer suffice for Kitty and
her. Realising this, she herself set out to
find something to do,
It was a hard matter, for wherever she
went seeking employment, it was always
for her and her daughter, for the more
128


A VISITOR FROM HOME
she saw of Mrs. Jones, the less she thought
it well to leave the girl under her influence.
Mrs. Hamilton was not a keen woman,
but she had a mother's intuitions, and she
saw a subtle change in her daughter. At
first the girl grew wistful and then im-
patient and rebellious. She complained
that Joe was away from them so much
enjoying himself, while she had to be
housed up like a prisoner. She had re-
ceded from her dignified position, and
twice of an evening had gone out for a
car-ride with Thomas; but as that gentle-
man never included the mother in his
invitation, she decided that her daughter
should go no more, and she begged Joe to
take his sister out sometimes instead. He
demurred at first, for he now numbered
among his city acquirements a fine con-
tempt for his woman relatives. Finally,
however, he consented, and took Kit once
to the theatre and once for a ride. Each
time he left her in the care of Thomas as
soon as they were out of the house, while
9 129


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
he went to find or to wait for his dear
Hattie. But his mother did not know all
this, and Kit did not tell her. The quick
poison of the unreal life about her had
already begun to affect her character. She
had grown secretive and sly. The inno-
cent longing which in a burst of enthusiasm
she had expressed that first night at the
theatre was growing into a real ambition
with her, and she dropped the simple old
songs she knew to practise the detestable
coon ditties which the stage demanded.
She showed no particular pleasure when
her mother found the sort of place they
wanted, but went to work with her in
sullen silence. Mrs. Hamilton could not
understand it all, and many a night she
wept and prayed over the change in this
child of her heart. There were times
when she felt that there was nothing left
to work or fight for. The letters from
Berry in prison became fewer and fewer.
He was sinking into the dull, dead routine
of his life. Her own letters to him fell
130


A VISITOR FROM HOME
off. It was hard getting the children to
write. They did not want to be bothered,
and she could not write for herself. So
in the weeks and months that followed
she drifted farther away from her children
and husband and all the traditions of her
life. J
After Joe's first night at the Banner
Club he had kept his promise to Hattie
Sterling and had gone often to meet her.
She had taught him much, because it was
to her advantage to do so. His greenness
had dropped from him like a garment, but
no amount of sophistication could make
him deem the woman less perfect. He
knew that she was much older than he,
but he only took this fact as an additional
sign of his prowess in having won her.
He was proud of himself when he went
behind the scenes at the theatre or waited
for her at the stage door and bore her off
under the admiring eyes of a crowd of
gapers. And Hattie? She liked him in a
half-contemptuous, half-amused way. He
131


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
was a good-looking boy and made money
enough, as she expressed it, to show
her a good time, so she was willing to
overlook his weakness and his callow
vanity.
"Look here," she said to him one day,
"I guess you 'll have to be moving. There's
a young lady been inquiring for you to-day,
and I won't stand for that."
He looked at her, startled for a moment,
until he saw the laughter in her eyes.
Then he caught her and kissed her.
"What 're you givin' me?" he said.
"It's a straight tip, that's what."
"Who is it?"
"It's a girl named Minty Brown from
your home."
His face turned brick-red with fear and
shame.. "Minty Brown!" he stammered.
Had that girl told all and undone him?
But Hattie was going on about her work
and evidently knew nothing.
"Oh, you need n't pretend you don't
know her," she went on banteringly.
132


A VISITOR FROM HOME
"She says you were great friends dowi>
South, so I've invited her to supper. She
wants to see you."
"To supper!" he thought. Was she
mocking him? Was she restraining her
scorn of him only to make his humiliation
the greater after a while? He looked at
her, but there was no suspicion of malice
in her face, and he took hope.
"Well, I'd like to see old Minty," he
said. "It's been many a long day since
I've seen her."
All that afternoon, after going to the
barber-shop, Joe was driven by a tempest
of conflicting emotions. If Minty Brown
had not told his story, why not? Would
she yet tell, and if she did, what would
happen? He tortured himself by question-
ing if Hattie would cast him off. At the
very thought his hand trembled, and the
man in the chair asked him if he had n't
been drinking.
When he met Minty in the evening,
however, the first glance at her reassured
133


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
him. Her face was wreathed in smiles
as she came forward and held out her
hand.
"Well, well, Joe Hamilton," she ex-
claimed, "if I ain't right-down glad to see
you! How are you?"
"I'm middlin', Minty. How's your-
self?" He was so happy that he could n't
let go her hand.
"An' jes' look at the boy! Ef he ain't
got the impidence to be waihin' a mustache
too. You must 'a' been lettin' the cats lick
yo' upper hp. Did n't expect to see me in
New York, did you?"
"No, indeed. What you doin' here?"
"Oh, I got a gent'man friend what's a
porter, an' his run's been changed so that
he comes hyeah, an' he told me, if I wanted
to come he'd bring me thoo fur a visit, so,
you see, hyeah I am. I alius was mighty
anxious to see this hyeah town. But tell
me, how's Kit an' yo' ma?"
"They're both right well." He had
forgotten them and their scorn of Minty.
134


A VISITOR FROM HOME
"Whaih do you live? I'm comin'
roun' to see 'em."
He hesitated for a moment. He knew
how his mother, if not Kit, would re-
ceive her, and yet he dared not anger this
woman, who had his fate in the hollow
of-her hand.
She saw his hesitation and spoke up.
"Oh, that's all right. Let by-gones be
by-gones. You know I ain't the kin' o'
person that holds a grudge ag'in anybody."
"That's right, Minty, that's right,"
he said, and gave her his mother's address.
Then he hastened home to prepare the way
for Minty's coming. Joe had no doubt but
that his mother would see the matter quite
as he saw it, and be willing to temporise
with Minty; but he had reckoned without
his host. Mrs. Hamilton might make
certain concessions to strangers on the
score of expediency, but she absolutely
refused to yield one iota of her dignity to
one whom she had known so long as an
inferior.
135


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"But don't you see what she can do for
us, ma? She knows people that I know,
and she can ruin me with them."
"I ain't never bowed my haid to Minty
Brown an' I ain't a-goin' to do it now,"
was his mother's only reply.
"Oh, ma," Kitty put in, "you don't
want to get talked about up here, do
you?"
"We'd jes' as well be talked about fu'
somep'n we did n't do as 'fu' somep'n we
did do, an' it wouldn' be long befo' we'd
come to dat if we made frien's wid dat
Brown gal. I ain't a-goin' to do it. I'm
ashamed o' you, Kitty, fu' wantin' me to."
The girl began to cry, while her brother
walked the floor angrily.
"You'll see what 'll happen," he cried;
"you 'll see."
Fannie looked at her son, and she seemed
to see him more clearly than she had ever
seen him before, — his foppery, his mean-
ness, his cowardice.
"Well," she answered with a sigh, "it
136


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"All you got to do is to tell dat ooman
jes' what I say."
Minty Brown downstairs had heard the
little colloquy, and, perceiving that some-
thing was amiss, had come to the stairs to
listen. Now her voice, striving hard to
be condescending and sweet, but growing
harsh with anger, floated up from below:
"Oh, nevah min', lady, I ain't anxious
to see 'em. I jest called out o' pity, but I
reckon dey 'shamed to see me 'cause de
ol' man's in penitentiary an' dey was run
out o' town.''
Mrs. Jones gasped, and then turned and
went hastily downstairs.
Kit burst out crying afresh, and Joe
walked the floor muttering beneath his
breath, while the mother sat grimly watch-
ing the outcome. Finally they heard Mrs.
Jones' step once more on the stairs. She
came in without knocking, and her manner
was distinctly unpleasant.
"Mis' Hamilton," she said, " I've had a
talk with the lady downstairs, an' she's
138


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
Fannie turned on him like a tigress.
"Don't you cuss hyeah befo' me; I ain't
nevah brung you up to it, an' I won't stan'
it. Go to dem whaih you larned it, an
wham de wo'ds soun' sweet." The boy
started to speak, but she checked him.
"Don't you daih to cuss ag'in or befo'
Gawd dey 'll be somep'n fu' one o' dis
fambly to be rottin' in jail fu'!"
The boy was cowed by his mother's
manner. He was gathering his few be-
longings in a bundle.
"I ain't goin' to cuss," he said sullenly,
"I'm goin' out o' your way."
"Oh, go on," she said, "go on. It's
been a long time sence you been my son.
You on yo' way to hell, an' you is been fu'
lo dese many days."
Joe got out of the house as soon as
possible. He did not speak to Kit nor look
at his mother. He felt like a cur, because
he knew deep down in his heart that he
had only been waiting for some excuse to
take this step. .
140


A VISITOR FROM HOME
As he slammed the door behind him, his
mother flung herself down by Kit's side
and mingled her tears with her daughter's.
But Kit did not raise her head.
"Dey ain't nothin' lef but you now,
Kit;" but the girl did not speak, she only
shook with hard sobs.
Then her mother raised her head and
almost screamed, "My Gawd, not you,
Kit!" The girl rose, and then dropped
unconscious in her mother's arms.
Joe took his clothes to a lodging-house
that he knew of, and then went to the club
to drink himself up to the point of going
to see Hattie after the show.
141


XI
BROKEN HOPES
WHAT Joe Hamilton lacked more
than anything else in the world
was some one to kick him. Many a man
who might have lived decently and be-
come a fairly respectable citizen has gone
to the dogs for the want of some one to
administer a good resounding kick at the
right time. It is corrective and clarifying.
Joe needed especially its clarifying prop-
erty, for though he knew himself a cur, he
went away from his mother's house feeling
himself somehow aggrieved, and the feel-
ing grew upon him the more he thought
1 of it. His mother had ruined his chance
; | in life, and he could never hold up his
head again. Yes, he had heard that sev-
eral of the fellows at the club had shady
reputations, but surely to be the son of a
142


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
but that the malice of Minty Brown would
prompt her to seek out all of his friends
and make the story known. Why had
he not tried to placate her by disavowing
sympathy with his mother? He would
have had no compunction about doing so,
but he had thought of it too late. He
sat brooding over his trouble until the
bartender called with respectful sarcasm
to ask if he wanted to lease the glass he
had.
He gave back a silly laugh, gulped the
rest of the liquor down, and was ordering
another when Sadness came in. He came
up directly to Joe and sat down beside
him. "Mr. Hamilton says 'Make it two,
Jack,'" he said with easy familiarity.
"Well, what's the matter, old man?
You 're looking glum."
"I feel glum."
"The divine Hattie hasn't been cutting
any capers, has she? The dear old girl
has n't been getting hysterical at her age 1
Let us hope not."
144


BROKEN HOPES
Joe glared at him. Why in the devil
should this fellow be so sadly gay when
he was weighted down with sorrow and
shame and disgust?
"Come, come now, Hamilton, if you 're
sore because I invited myself to take a
drink with you, I 'll withdraw the order.
I know the heroic thing to say is that I 'll
pay for the drinks myself, but I can't screw
my courage up to the point of doing so
unnatural a thing."
Young Hamilton hastened to protest.
"Oh, I know you fellows now well enough
to know how many drinks to pay for. It
ain't that."
"Well, then, out with it. What is it?
Haven't been up to anything, have you?"
The desire came to Joe to tell this man
the whole truth, just what was the matter,
and so to relieve his heart. On the im-
pulse he did. If he had expected much
from Sadness he was disappointed, for not
a muscle of the man's face changed during
the entire recital.
10 145


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
When it was over, he looked at his
companion critically through a wreath of
smoke. Then he said: "For a fellow
who has had for a full year the advantage
. of the education of the New York clubs,
you are strangely young". Let me see, you
are nineteen or twenty now — yes. Well,
that perhaps accounts for it. It's a pity
you weren't born older. It's a pity most
men are n't. They would n't have to take
so much time and lose so many good things
learning. Now, Mr. Hamilton, let me tell
you, and you will pardon me for it, that
you are a fool. Your case is n't half as
bad as that of nine-tenths of the fellows
that hang around here. Now, for in-
stance, my father was hung."
Joe started and gave a gasp of horror.
"Oh, yes, but it was done with a very
good rope and by the best citizens of Texas,
so it seems that I really ought to be very
grateful to them for the distinction they
conferred upon my family, but I am not.
I am ungratefully sad. A man must be
146


BROKEN HOPES
very high or very low to take the sensible
view of life that keeps him from being sad.
I must confess that I have aspired to the
depths without ever being fully able to
reach them.
"Now look around a bit. See that
little girl over there? That's Viola. Two
years ago she wrenched up an iron stool
from the floor of a lunch-room, and killed
another woman with it. She's nineteen,
— just about your age, by the way. Well,
she had friends with a certain amount of
pull. She got out of it, and no one thinks
the worse of Viola. You see, Hamilton,
in this life we are all suffering from fever,
and no one edges away from the other be-
cause he finds him a little warm. It's
dangerous when you 're not used to it;
but once you go through the parching pro-
cess, you become inoculated against further
contagion. Now, there's Barney over
there, as decent a fellow as I know; but
he has been indicted twice for pocket-
picking. A half-dozen fellows whom you
147


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
meet here every night have killed their
man. Others have done worse things for
which you respect them less. Poor Wal-
lace, who is just coming in, and who looks
like a jaunty ragpicker, came here about
six months ago with about two thousand
dollars, the proceeds from the sale of a
house his father had left him. He'll
sleep in one of the club chairs to-night,
and not from choice. He spent his two
thousand learning. But, after all, it was
a good investment. It was like buying
an annuity. He begins to know already
how to live on others as they have lived
on him. The plucked bird's beak is sharp-
ened for other's feathers. From now on
Wallace will live, eat, drink, and sleep at
the expense of others, and will forget to
mourn his lost money. He will go on this
way until, broken and useless, the poor-
house or the potter's field gets him. Oh,
it's a fine, rich life, my lad. I know
you 'll like it. I said you would the first
time I saw you. It has plenty of stir in
148


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
laughed at his friend's retreating form.
"Poor old fellow," he said, " drunk again.
Must have had something before he came
in."
There was not a lie in all that Sadness
had said either as to their crime or their
condition. He belonged to a peculiar class,
— one that grows larger and larger each
year in New York and which has imitators
in every large city in this country. It is
i a set which lives, like the leech, upon the
blood of others, — that draws its life from
'the veins of foolish men and immoral
women, that prides itself upon its well-
dressed idleness and has no shame in its
voluntary pauperism. Each member of
the class knows every other, his methods
and his limitations, and their loyalty one
to another makes of them a great hulking,
fashionably uniformed fraternity of in-
dolence. Some play the races a few months
of the year; others, quite as intermit-
tently, gamble at "shoestring" politics,
; and waver from party to party as ,time or
150


BROKEN HOPES
their interests seem to dictate. But most-
ly they are like the lilies of the field.
It was into this set that Sadness had
sarcastically invited Joe, and Joe felt
honoured. He found that all of his former
feelings had been silly and quite out of
place; that all he had learned in his earlier
years was false. It was very plain to him
now that to want a good reputation was
the sign of unpardonable immaturity, and
that dishonour was the only real thing
worth while. It made him feel better.
He was just rising bravely to swagger
out to the theatre when Minty Brown came
in with one of the club-men he knew. He
bowed and smiled, but she appeared not
to notice him at first, and when she did
she nudged her companion and laughed.
Suddenly his little courage began to ooze
out, and he knew what she must be saying
to the fellow at her side, for he looked
over at him and grinned. Where now was
the philosophy of Sadness? Evidently
Minty had not been brought under its
151


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
educating influences, and thought about
the whole matter in the old, ignorant way.
He began to think of it too. Somehow
old teachings and old traditions have an
annoying way of coming back upon us in
the critical moments of life, although one
has long ago recognised how much truer
and better some newer ways of thinking
are. But Joe would not allow Minty to
shatter his dreams by bringing up these
old notions. She must be instructed.
He rose and went over to her table.
"Why, Minty," he said, offering his
hand, " you ain't mad at me, are you?"
"Go on away f om hyeah," she said
angrily; "I don't want none o' thievin'
Berry Hamilton's fambly to speak to
me."
"Why, you were all right this evening."
"Yes, but jest out o' pity, an' you was
nice 'cause you was afraid I 'd tell on you.
Go on now."
"Go on now," said Minty's young man;
and he looked menacing.
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BROKEN HOPES
Joe, what little self-respect he had
gone, slunk out of the room and needed
several whiskeys in a neighbouring saloon
to give him courage to go to the theatre
and wait for Hattie, who was playing in
vaudeville houses pending the opening of
her company.
The closing act was just over when he
reached the stage door. He was there
but a short time, when Hattie tripped out
and took his arm. Her face was bright
and smiling, and there was no suggestion
of disgust in the dancing eyes she turned
up to him. Evidently she had not heard,
but the thought gave him no particular
pleasure, as it left him in suspense as
to how she would act when she should
hear.
"Let's go somewhere and get some
supper," she said; "I'm as hungry as I
can be. What are you looking so cut up
about?"
"Oh, I ain't feelin' so very good."
"I hope you ain't lettin' that long-
153


BROKEN HOPES
all, and people thought no less of him.
His joy was unbounded.
"So she jumped on you hard, did she?
The cat!"
"Oh, she did n't say a thing to me."
"Well, Joe, it's just like this. I ain't
an angel, you know that, but I do try to
be square, and whenever I find a friend of
mine down on his luck, in his pocket-book
or his feelings, why, I give him my flipper.
Why, old chap, I believe I like you better
for the stiff upper lip you've been keeping
under all this."
"Why, Hattie," he broke out, unable
any longer to control himself, "you 're —
you 're"
"Oh, I'm just plain Hat Sterling, who
won't throw down her friends. Now
come on and get something to eat. If
that thing is at the club, we 'll go there
and show her just how much her talk
amounted to. She thinks she's the whole
game, but I can spot her and then show
her that she ain't one, two, three."
155


BROKEN HOPES
available.—Jack," she called down the
long room to the bartender," make it three.
— Lean over here, I want to talk to you.
See that woman over there by the wall?
No, not that one, — the big light woman
with Griggs. Well, she's come here with
a story trying to throw Joe down, and I
want, you to help me do her."
"Oh, that's the one that upset our
young friend, is it?" said Sadness, turning
his mournful eyes upon Minty.
"That's her. So you know about it,
do you?"
"Yes, and I 'll help do her. She must n't
touch one of the fraternity, you know."
He kept his eyes fixed upon the outsider
until she squirmed. She could not at
all understand this serious conversation
directed at her. She wondered if she had
gone too far and if they contemplated
putting her out. It made her uneasy.
Now, this same Miss Sterling had the
faculty of attracting a good deal of atten-
tion when she wished to. She brought it
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THE SPORT OF THE GODS
into play to-night, and in ten minutes,
aided by Sadness, she had a crowd of
jolly people about her table. When, as
she would have expressed it, " everything
was going fat," she suddenly paused and,
turning her eyes full upon Minty, said in
a voice loud enough for all to hear, —
"Say, boys, you've heard that story
about Joe, have n't you?"
They had.
"Well, that's the one that told it $ she's
come here to try to throw him and me
down. Is she going to do it?"
"Well, I guess not!" was the rousing
reply, and every face turned towards the
now frightened Minty. She rose hastily
and, getting her skirts together, fled from
the room, followed more leisurely by the
crestfallen Griggs. Hattie's laugh and
"Thank you, fellows," followed her out.
Matters were less easy for Joe's mother
and sister than they were for him. A
week or more after this, Kitty found him
158


BROKEN HOPES
and told him that Minty's story had
reached their employers and that they
were out of work.
"You see, Joe," she said sadly, " we've
took a flat since we moved from Mis'
Jones', and we had to furnish it. We've
got one lodger, a race-horse man, an' he's
mighty nice to ma an* me, but that
ain't enough. Now we've got to do
something."
Joe was so smitten with sorrow that he
gave her a dollar and promised to speak
about the matter to a friend of his.
He did speak about it to Hattie.
"You've told me once or twice that
your sister could sing. Bring her down
here to me, and if she can do anything,
I 'll get her a place on the stage," was
Hattie's answer.
When Kitty heard it she was radiant,
but her mother only shook her head and
said, "De las' hope, de las' hope."
159


XII
"ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE"
KITTY proved herself Joe's sister by
falling desperately in love with
Hattie Sterling the first time they met.
The actress was very gracious to her, and
called her "child" in a pretty, patronising
way, and patted her on the cheek.
"It's a shame that Joe has n't brought
you around before. We've been good
friends for quite some time."
"He told me you an' him was right
good friends."
Already Joe took on a new importance
in his sister's eyes. He must be quite a
man, she thought, to be the friend of such
a person as Miss Sterling.
"So you think you want to go on the
stage, do you?"
160


THE WORLD'S A STAGE
"Yes, 'm, I thought it might be right
nice for me if I could."
"Joe, go out and get some beer for us,
and then I 'll hear your sister sing."
Miss Sterling talked as if she were a
manager and had only to snap her fingers
to be obeyed. When Joe came back with
the beer, Kitty drank a glass. She did
not like it, but she would not offend her
hostess. After this she sang, and Miss
Sterling applauded her generously, although
the young girl's nervousness kept her from
doing her best. The encouragement helped
her, and she did better as she became more
at home.
"Why, child, you've got a good voice.
And, Joe, you've been keeping her shut
up all this time. You ought to be ashamed
of yourself."
The young man had little to say. He had
brought Kitty almost under a protest, be-
cause he had no confidence in her ability
and thought that his "girl" would dis-
illusion her. It did not please him now
11 161


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
he reduces us to the ranks or kicks us out
entirely."
Joe here thought it time for him to put
in a word. "Get out, Hat," he said con-
temptuously; "you 're good for a dozen
years yet."
She did n't deign to notice him, save so
far as a sniff goes.
"Don't you let what I say scare you,
though, Kitty. You've got a good chance,
and maybe you 'll have more sense than
I've got, and at least save money — while
you 're in it. But let's get off that. It
makes me sick. All you've got to do is
to come to the opera-house to-morrow and
I 'll introduce you to the manager. He's
a fool, but I think we can make him do
something for you."
"Oh, thank you, I 'll be around to-
morrow, sure."
"Better come about ten o'clock. There's
a rehearsal to-morrow, and you 'll find him
there. Of course, he 'll be pretty rough,
he always is at rehearsals, but he 'll take
164


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
around thinking they're it, when they
ain't even in the game. Go on and get
the beer."
And Joe went, feeling vaguely that he
had been sat upon.
'. Kit flew home with joyous heart to tell
her mother of her good prospects. She
burst into the room, crying, " Oh, ma, ma,
Miss Hattie thinks I 'll do to go on the
stage. Ain't it grand?"
She did not meet with the expected
warmth of response from her mother.
"I do' know as it'll be so gran'. F'om
what I see of dem stage people dey don't
seem to 'mount to much. De way dem
gals shows demse'ves is right down bad to
me. Is you goin' to dress lak dem we
seen dat night?"
Kit hung her head.
"I guess I 'll have to."
"Well, ef you have to, I'd ruther see
you daid any day. Oh, Kit, my little gal,
don't do it, don't do it. Don't you go
down lakyo' brothah Joe. Joe's gone."
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THE WORLD'S A STAGE
"Why, ma, you don't understand. Joe's
somebody now. You ought to've heard
how Miss Hattie talked about him. She
said he's been her friend for a long
while."
"Her f rien', yes, an' his own inimy.
You need n' pattern aftah dat gal, Kit.
She ruint Joe, an' she's aftah you now."
"But nowadays everybody thinks stage
people respectable up here."
"Maybe I'm ol'-fashioned, but I can't
believe in any ooman's ladyship when she
shows herse'f lak dem gals does. Oh, Kit,
don't do it. Ain't you seen enough? Don't
you know enough already to stay away
f'om dese hyeah people? Dey don't want
nothin' but to pull you down an' den laugh
at you w'en you's dragged in de dust."
"You must n't feel that away, ma. I'm
doin' it to help you."
"I do' want no sich help. I'd ruther
starve."
Kit did not reply, but Lhere was no
yielding in her manner.
167


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
I "Kit," her mother went on, "dey's
somep'n I ain't nevah tol' you dat I'm
goin' to tell you now. Mistah Gibson
ust to come to Mis' Jones's lots to see me
befo' we moved hyeah, an' he's been talkin'
!bout a good many things to me." She
hesitated. "He say dat I ain't noways
ma'ied to my po' husban', dat a pen'ten-
tiary sentence is de same as a divo'ce, an'
if Be'y should live to git out, we'd have to
ma'y ag'in. I would n't min' dat, Kit, but
he say dat at Be'y's age dey ain't much
chanst of his livin' to git out, an' hyeah
I 'll live all dis time alone, an' den have
no one to tek keer o' me w'en I git ol'.
He wants me to ma'y him, Kit. Kit, I
love yo' fathah; he's my only one. But
Joe, he's gone, an' ef yo go, befo' Gawd
I'll tell Tawm Gibson yes."
The mother looked up to see just what
effect her plea would have on her daughter.
She hoped that what she said would have the
desired result. But the girl turned around
from fixing her neck-ribbon before the glass,
168


THE WORLD'S A STAGE
her face radiant. "Why, it 'll be splendid.
He 's such a nice man, an' race-horse men
'most always have money. Why don't you
marry him, ma? Then I 'd feel that you
was safe an' settled, an' that you would n't
be lonesome when the show was out of
town."
"You want me to ma'y him an' desert
yo' po' pa?"
"I guess what he says is right, ma. I
don't reckon we 'll ever see pa again an'
you got to do something. You got to live
for yourself now."
Her mother dropped her head in her
hands. "All right," she said, " I 'll do it;
I 'll ma'y him. I might as well go de way
both my chillen's gone. Po' Be'y, po'
Be'y. Ef you evah do come out, Gawd
he'p you to baih what you 'll fin'." And
Mrs. Hamilton rose and tottered from the
room, as if the old age she anticipated had
already come upon her.
Kit stood looking after her, fear and
grief in her eyes. "Poor ma," she said,
169


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"an' poor pa. But I know, an' I know
it's for the best."
On the next morning she was up early
and practising hard for her interview with
the managing star of "Martin's Black-
birds."
When she arrived at the theatre, Hattie
Sterling met her with frank friendliness.
"I'm glad you came early, Kitty," she
remarked, "for maybe you can get a
chance to talk with Martin before he begins
rehearsal and gets all worked up. He 'll
be a little less like a bear then. But even
if you don't see him before then, wait, and
don't get scared if he tries to bluff you.
His bark is a good deal worse than his
bite."
When Mr. Martin came in that morn-
ing, he had other ideas than that of seeing
applicants for places. His show must
begin in two weeks, and it was advertised
to be larger and better than ever before,
when really nothing at all had been done
for it. The promise of this advertisement
170


THE WORLD'S A STAGE
must be fulfilled. Mr. Martin was late,
and was out of humour with every one else
on account of it. He came in hurried, fierce,
and important.
"Mornin', Mr. Smith, mornin', Mrs.
Jones. Ha, ladies and gentlemen, all
here?"
He shot every word out of his mouth
as if the after-taste of it were unpleasant
to him. He walked among the chorus like
an angry king among his vassals, and his
glance was a flash of insolent fire. From
his head to his feet he was the very
epitome of self-sufficient, brutal conceit.
Kitty trembled as she noted the hush
that fell on the people at his entrance.
She felt like rushing out of the room. She
could never face this terrible man. She
trembled more as she found his eyes fixed
upon her.
"Who's that?" he asked, disregarding
her, as if she had been a stick or a
stone.
"Well, don't snap her head off. It's a
171


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
girl friend of mine that wants a place,"
said Hattie. She was the only one who
would brave Martin.
"Humph. Let her wait. I ain't got
no time to hear any one now. Get your-
selves in line, you all who are on to that
first chorus, while I'm getting into my
sweat-shirt."
He disappeared behind a screen, whence
he emerged arrayed, or only half arrayed,
in a thick absorbing shirt and a thin pair
of woollen trousers. Then the work began.
The man was indefatigable. He was like
the spirit of energy. He was in every place
about the stage at once, leading the chorus,
showing them steps, twisting some awk-
ward girl into shape, shouting, gesticulat-
ing, abusing the pianist.
"Now, now," he would shout, "the left
foot on that beat. Bah, bah, stop! You
walk like a lot of tin soldiers. Are your
joints rusty? Do you want oil? Look
here, Taylor, if I did n't know you, I'd
take you for a truck. Pick up your feet,
172


THE WORLD'S A STAGE
open your mouths, and move, move, move!
Oh!" and he would drop his head in de-
spair. "And to think that I've got to do
something with these things in two weeks
— two weeks!" Then he would turn to
them again with a sudden reaccession of
eagerness. "Now, at it again, at it again!
Hold that note, hold it! Now whirl, and
on the left foot. Stop that music, stop it!
Miss Coster, you'll learn that step in
about a thousand years, and I've got nine
hundred and ninety-nine years and fifty
weeks less time than that to spare. Come
here and try that step with me. Don't be
afraid to move. Step like a chicken on a
hot griddle!" And some blushing girl
would come forward and go through the
step alone before all the rest.
Kitty contemplated the scene with a
mind equally divided between fear and
anger. What should she do if he should
so speak to her? Like the others, no doubt,
smile sheepishly and obey him. But she
did not like to believe it. She felt that
173


THE WORLD'S- A STAGE
selected one. "Try this. Here, Tom, play
it for her."
It was an ordeal for the girl to go
through. She had never sung before at
anything more formidable than a church
concert, where only her immediate ac-
quaintances and townspeople were present.
Now to sing before all these strange people,
themselves singers, made her feel faint and
awkward. But the courage of desperation
came to her, and she struck into the song.
At the first her voice wavered and threat-
ened to fail her. It must not. She choked
back her fright and forced the music from
her lips.
When she was done, she was startled to
hear Martin burst into a raucous laugh.
Such humiliation! She had failed, and
instead of telling her, he was bringing her
to shame before the whole company. The
tears came into her eyes, and she was about
giving way when she caught a reassuring
nod and smile from Hattie Sterling, and
seized on this as a last hope.
175


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"Haw, haw, haw!" laughed Martin,
"haw, haw, haw! The little one was
scared, see? She was scared, d' you under-
stand? But did you see the grit she went
at it with? Just took the bit in her teeth
and got away. Haw, haw, haw! Now,
that's what I like. If all you girls had
that spirit, we could do something in two
weeks. Try another one, girl."
Kitty's heart had suddenly grown light.
She sang the second one better because
something within her was singing.
"Good!" said Martin, but he immedi-
ately returned to his cold manner. "You
watch these girls close and see what they
do, and to-morrow be prepared to go into
line and move as well as sing."
He immediately turned his attention
from her to the chorus, but no slight that
he could inflict upon her now could take
away the sweet truth that she was engaged
and to-morrow would begin work. She
wished she could go over and embrace
Hattie Sterling. She thought kindly of
176


THE WORLD'S A STAGE
Joe, and promised herself to give him
a present out of her first month's
earnings.
On the first night of the show pretty
little Kitty Hamilton was pointed out as a
girl who would n't be in the chorus long.
The mother, who was soon to be Mrs. Gib-
son, sat in the balcony, a grieved, pained
look on her face. Joe was in a front row
with some of the rest of the gang. He
took many drinks between the acts, be-
cause he was proud.
Mr. Thomas was there. He also was
proud, and after the performance he waited
for Kitty at the stage door and went for-
ward to meet her as she came out. The
look she gave him stopped him, and he let
her pass without a word.
"Who'd 'a' thought," he mused, "that
the kid had that much nerve? Well, if
they don't want to find out things, what
do they come to N' Yawk for? It ain't
nobody's old Sunday-school picnic. Guess
I got out easy, anyhow."
12 177


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
Hattie Sterling took Joe home in a
hansom.
"Say," she said, "if you come this way
for me again, it's all over, see? Your
little sister's a comer, and I've got to
hustle to keep up with her."
Joe growled and fell asleep in his chair.
One must needs have a strong head or a
strong will when one is the brother of a
celebrity and would celebrate the distin-
guished one's success.
178


XIII
THE OAKLEYS
AYEAR after the arrest of Berry
Hamilton, and at a time when New
York had shown to the eyes of his family
so many strange new sights, there were
few changes to be noted in the condition
of affairs at the Oakley place. Maurice
Oakley was perhaps a shade more distrust-
ful of his servants, and consequently more
testy with them. Mrs. Oakley was the
same acquiescent woman, with unbounded
faith in her husband's wisdom and judg-
ment. With complacent minds both went
their ways, drank their wine, and said their
prayers, and wished that brother Frank's
five years were past. They had letters
from him now and then, never very cheer-
ful in tone, but always breathing the deep-
est love and gratitude to them.
179


TEE SPORT OF THE GODS
His brother found deep cause for con-
gratulation in the tone of these epistles.
"Frank is getting down to work," he
would cry exultantly. "He is past the
first buoyant enthusiasm of youth. Ah,
Leslie, when a man begins to be serious,
then he begins to be something.'' And
her only answer would be, "I wonder,
Maurice, if Claire Lessing will wait for
him?"
The two had frequent questions to an-
swer as to Frank's doing and prospects,
and they had always bright things to say
of him, even when his letters gave them
no such warrant. Their love for him
made them read large between the lines,
and all they read was good.
Between Maurice and his brother no
word of the guilty servant ever passed.
They each avoided it as an unpleasant sub-
ject. Frank had never asked and his
brother had never proffered aught of the
outcome of the case.
Mrs. Oakley had once suggested it.
180


THE OAKLEYS
"Brother ought to know," she said, "that
Berry is being properly punished."
"By no means," replied her husband.
"You know that it would only hurt him.
He shall never know if I have to tell
him."
"You are right, Maurice, you are al-
ways right. We must shield Frank from
the pain it would cause him. Poor fellow!
he is so sensitive."
Their hearts were still steadfastly fixed
upon the union of this younger brother with
Claire Lessing. She had lately come into a
fortune, and there was nothing now to pre-
vent it. They would have written Frank
to urge it, but they both believed that to
try to woo him away from his art was but
to make him more wayward. That any
woman could have power enough to take
him away from this jealous mistress they
very much doubted. But they could hope,
and hope made them eager to open every
letter that bore the French postmark. Al-
ways it might contain news that he was
181


THE OAKLEYS
one banteringly told Maurice Oakley that
he had such a deep vein of sentiment, he
would have denied it with scorn and
laughter. But here he found himself sit-
ting with the letter in his hand and weav-
ing stories as to its contents.
First, now, it might be a notice that
Frank had received the badge of the Legion
of Honour. No, no, that was too big, and
he laughed aloud at his own folly, wonder-
ing the next minute, with half shame, why
he laughed, for did he, after all, believe
anything was too big for that brother of
his? Well, let him begin, anyway, away
down. Let him say, for instance, that the
letter told of the completion and sale of a
great picture. Frank had sold small ones.
He would be glad of this, for his brother
had written him several times of things
that were a-doing, but not yet of anything
that was done. Or, better yet, let the
letter say that some picture, long finished,
but of which the artist's pride and anxiety
had forbidden him to speak, had made a
183


TEE SPORT OF THE GODS
glowing success, the success it deserved.
This sounded well, and seemed not at all be-
yond the bounds of possibility. It was an
alluring vision. He saw the picture already.
It was a scene from life, true in detail to
the point of very minuteness, and yet with
something spiritual in it that lifted it above
the mere copy of the commonplace. At
the Salon it would be hung on the line, and
people would stand before it admiring its
workmanship and asking who the artist
was. He drew on his memory of old read-
ing. In his mind's eye he saw Frank, un-
conscious of his own power or too modest
to admit it, stand unknown among the
crowds around his picture waiting for and
dreading their criticisms. He saw the light
leap to his eyes as he heard their words of
praise. He saw the straightening of his
narrow shoulders when he was forced to
admit that he was the painter of the work.
Then the windows of Paris were filled with
his portraits. The papers were full of his
praise, and brave men and fair women met
184


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
cannot be greater than that, though it
shall hang where kings can see it and this
only graces the library of my poor house.
It has the feeling of a woman's soul with
the strength of a man's heart. When
Frank and Claire marry, I shall give it
back to them. It is too great a treasure
for a clod like me. Heigho, why will
women be so long a-shopping?"
He glanced again at the letter, and his
hand went out involuntarily towards it.
He fondled it, smiling.
"Ah, Lady Leslie, I've a mind to open
it to punish you for staying so long."
He essayed to be playful, but he knew
that he was trying to make a compromise
with himself because his eagerness grew
stronger than his gallantry. He laid
the letter down and picked it up again.
He studied the postmark over and over.
He got up and walked to the window and
back again, and then began fumbling in
his pockets for his knife. No, he did not
want it; yes, he did. He would just cut
186


THE OAKLEYS
the envelope and make believe he had read
it to pique his wife; but he would not
read it. Yes, that was it. He found the
knife and slit the paper. His fingers
trembled as he touched the sheets that pro-
truded. Why would not Leslie come?
Did she not know that he was waiting for
her? She ought to have known that there
was a letter from Paris to-day, for it had
been a month since they had had one.
There was a sound of footsteps without.
He sprang up, crying, "I 've been waiting
so long for you!" A servant opened the
door to bring him a message. Oakley dis-
missed him angrily. What did he want to
go down to the Continental for to drink
and talk politics to a lot of muddle-pated
fools when he had a brother in Paris who
was an artist and a letter from him lay un-
read in his hand? His patience and his
temper were going. Leslie was careless
and unfeeling. She ought to come; he
was tired of waiting.
A carriage rolled up the driveway and
187


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
he dropped the letter guiltily, as if it were
not his own. He would only say that he
had grown tired of waiting and started to
read it. But it was only Mrs. Davis's foot-
man leaving a note for Leslie about some
charity.
He went back to the letter. Well, it
was his. Leslie had forfeited her right to
see it as soon as he. It might be mean,
but it was not dishonest. No, he would
not read it now, but he would take it out
and show her that he had exercised his self-
control in spite of her shortcomings. He
laid it on the desk once more. It leered
at him. He might just open the sheets
enough to see the lines that began it, and
read no further. Yes, he would do that.
Leslie could not feel hurt at such a little
thing.
The first line had only " Dear Brother."
"Dear Brother"! Why not the second?
That could not hold much more. The
second line held him, and the third, and the
fourth, and as he read on, unmindful now of
188


THE OAKLEYS
what Leslie might think or feel, his face
turned from the ruddy glow of pleasant
anxiety to the pallor of grief and terror.
He was not half-way through it when Mrs.
Oakley's voice in the hall announced her
coming. He did not hear her. He sat
staring at the page before him, his lips
apart and his eyes staring. Then, with a
cry that echoed through the house, crum-
pling the sheets in his hand, he fell forward
fainting to the floor, just as his wife rushed
into the room.
"What is it?" she cried. "Maurice!
Maurice!"
He lay on the floor staring up at the
ceiling, the letter clutched in his hands.
She ran to him and lifted up his head, but
he gave no sign of life. Already the ser-
vants were crowding to the door. She
bade one of them to hasten for a doctor,
others to bring water and brandy, and the
rest to be gone. As soon as she was alone,
she loosed the crumpled sheets from his
hand, for she felt that this must have been
189


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
the cause of her husband's strange attack.
Without a thought of wrong, for they had
no secrets from each other, she glanced at
the opening lines. Then she forgot the
unconscious man at her feet and read the
letter through to the end.
The letter was in Frank's neat hand, a
little shaken, perhaps, by nervousness.
"Dear Brother," it ran, "I know you will
grieve at receiving this, and I wish that I
might bear your grief for you, but I cannot,
though I have as heavy a burden as this can
bring to you. Mine would have been lighter
to-day, perhaps, had you been more straightfor-
ward with me. I am not blaming you, however,
for I know that my hypocrisy made you believe
me possessed of a really soft heart, and you
thought to spare me. Until yesterday, when in
a letter from Esterton he casually mentioned
the matter, I did not know that Berry was in
prison, else this letter would have been written
sooner. I have been wanting to write it for so
long, and yet have been too great a coward to
do so.
"I know that you will be disappointed in
me, and just what that disappointment will cost
190


THE OAKLEYS
you I know; but you must hear the truth. 1
shall never see your face again, or I should not
dare to tell it even now. You will remember
that I begged you to be easy on your servant.
You thought it was only my kindness of heart.
It was not; I had a deeper reason. I knew
where the money had gone and dared not tell.
Berry is as innocent as yourself — and I —
well, it is a story, and let me tell it to you.
"You have had so much confidence in me, and
I hate to tell you that it was all misplaced. I
have no doubt that I should not be doing it
now but that I have drunken absinthe enough to
give me the emotional point of view, which I
shall regret to-morrow. I do not mean that I
am drunk. I can think clearly and write clearly,
but my emotions are extremely active.
"Do you remember Claire's saying at the
table that night of the farewell dinner that some
dark-eyed mademoiselle was waiting for me?
She did not know how truly she spoke, though
I fancy she saw how I flushed when she said it:
for I was already in love — madly so.
"I need not describe her. I need say noth-
ing about her, for I know that nothing I say
can ever persuade you to forgive her for taking
me from you. This has gone on since I first
came here, and I dared not tell you, for I saw
191


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
whither your eyes had turned. I loved this
girl, and she both inspired and hindered my
work. Perhaps I would have been successful
had I not met her, perhaps not.
"I love her too well to marry her and make
of our devotion a stale, prosy thing of duty and
compulsion. When a man does not marry a
woman, he must keep her better than he would
a wife. It costs. All that you gave me went
to make her happy.
"Then, when I was about leaving you, the
catastrophe came. I wanted much to carry
back to her. I gambled to make more. I
would surprise her. Luck was against me-
Night after night I lost. Then, just before the
dinner, I woke from my frenzy to find all that
I had was gone. I would have asked you for
more, and you would have given it; but that
strange, ridiculous something which we misname
Southern honour, that honour which strains
at a gnat and swallows a camel, withheld me,
and I preferred to do worse. So I lied to you.
The money from my cabinet was not stolen
save by myself. I am a liar and a thief, but
your eyes shall never tell me so.
"Tell the truth and have Berry released. I
can stand it. Write me but one letter to tell
me of this. Do not plead with me, do not for-
192


THE OAKLEYS
give me, do not seek to find me, for from this
time I shall be as one who has perished from
the earth; I shall be no more.
"Your brother,
"Frank."
By the time the servants came they
found Mrs. Oakley as white as her lord.
But with firm hands and compressed lips
she ministered to his needs pending the
doctor's arrival. She bathed his face and
temples, chafed his hands, and forced the
brandy between his lips. Finally he stirred
and his hands gripped.
"The letter!" he gasped.
"Yes, dear, I have it; I have it."
"Give it to me," he cried. She handed
it to him. He seized it and thrust it into
his breast.
"Did — did — you read it?"
"Yes, I did not know"
"Oh, my God, I did not intend that you
should see it. I wanted the secret for my
own. I wanted to carry it to my grave
with me. Oh, Frank, Frank, Frank!"
13 193


THE OAKLEYS
"But, Maurice"
"I must carry it with me."
She saw that he was overwrought, and
so did not argue with him.
When the doctor came, he found Maurice
Oakley in bed, but better. The medical
man diagnosed the case and decided that
he had received some severe shock. He
feared too for his heart, for the patient
constantly held his hands pressed against
his bosom. In vain the doctor pleaded;
he would not take them down, and when
the wife added her word, the physician
gave up, and after prescribing, left, much
puzzled in mind.
"It's a strange case," he said; "there's
something more than the nervous shock
that makes him clutch his chest like that,
and yet I have never noticed signs of
heart trouble in Oakley. Oh, well, busi-
ness worry will produce anything in
anybody."
It was soon common talk about the
town about Maurice Oakley's attack. In
195


XIV
FRANKENSTEIN
<
FIVE years is but a short time in the
life of a man, and yet many things
may happen therein. For instance, the
whole way of a family's life may be
changed. Good natures may be made
into bad ones and out of a soul of faith
grow a spirit of unbelief. The independ-
ence of respectability may harden into
the insolence of defiance, and the sensitive
cheek of modesty into the brazen face of
shamelessness. It may be true that the
habits of years are hard to change, but
this is not true of the first sixteen or
seventeen years of a young person's life,
else Kitty Hamilton and Joe could not so
easily have become what they were. It
had taken barely five years to accomplish
an entire metamorphosis of their charac-
197


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
He stood outside, swaying dizzily upon
his feet and looking back with dazed eyes
at the door, then he muttered: "Pu' me
out, wi' you? Pu' me out, damn you!
Well, I ki' you. See 'f I don't;" and he
half walked, half fell down the street.
Sadness and Skaggsy were together at
the club that night. Five years had not
changed the latter as to wealth or position
or inclination, and he was still a frequent
visitor at the Banner. He always came
in alone now, for Maudie had gone the
way of all the half-world, and reached
depths to which Mr. Skaggs's job prevented
him from following her. However, he
mourned truly for his lost companion, and
to-night he was in a particularly pensive
mood.
Some one was playing rag-time on the
piano, and the dancers were wheeling in
time to the music. Skaggsy looked at
them regretfully as he sipped his liquor.
It made him think of Maudie. He sighed
and turned away.
202


FRANKENSTEIN
"I tell you, Sadness," he said impul-
sively, "dancing is the poetry of motion."
"Yes," replied Sadness, "and dancing
in rag-time is the dialect poetry."
The reporter did not like this. It
savoured of flippancy, and he was about
entering upon a discussion to prove that
Sadness had no soul, when Joe, with blood-
shot eyes and dishevelled clothes, staggered
in and reeled towards them.
"Drunk again," said Sadness. "Keally,
it's a waste of time for Joe to sober up.
Hullo there!" as the young man brought
up against him; "take a seat." He put
him in a chair at the table. "Been lushin'
a bit, eh?"
"Gi' me some'n' drink."
"Oh, a hair of the dog. Some men
shave their dogs clean, and then have
hydrophobia. Here, Jack!"
They drank, and then, as if the whiskey
had done him good, Joe sat up in his
chair.
"Ha'ie's throwed me down."
203


FRA NKENS TEIN
went directly to her room. She was a
light sleeper, and his step awakened her.
"Who is it?" she cried in affright.
"It's me." His voice was steadier now,
but grim.
"What do you want? Didn't I tell
you never to come here again? Get out
or I 'll have you taken out."
She sprang up in bed, glaring angrily at
him.
His hands twitched nervously, as if her
will were conquering him and he were
uneasy, but he held her eye with his own.
"You put me out to-night," he said.
"Yes, and I'm going to do it again.
You're drunk."
She started to rise, but he took a step
towards her and she paused. He looked as
she had never seen him look before. His
face was ashen and his eyes like fire and
blood. She quailed beneath the look. He
took another step towards her.
"You put me out to-night," he repeated,
"like a dog."
207


FRANKENS TEIN
She gazed at him fascinated. She tried
to scream and she could not. This was
not Joe. This was not the boy that she
had turned and twisted about her little
finger. This was a terrible, terrible man
or a monster.
He moved a step nearer her. His eyes
fell to her throatl For an instant she lost
their steady glare and then she found her
voice. The scream was checked as it
began. His fingers had closed over her
throat just where the gown had left it
temptingly bare. They gave it the caress
of death. She struggled. They held her.
Her eyes prayed to his. But his were the
fire of hell. She fell back upon her pillow
in silence. He had not uttered a word.
He held her. Finally he flung her from
him like a rag, and sank into a chair.
And there the officers found him when
Hattie Sterling's disappearance had be-
come a strange thing.
209


SKAQGS'S THEORY
together for some time, and the editor
seemed hard to convince.
"It would be a big thing for the paper,"
he said, "if it only panned out; but it is
such a rattle-brained, harum-scarum thing.
No one under the sun would have thought
of it but you, Skaggs."
"Oh, it's bound to pan out. I see the
thing as clear as day. There's no getting
around it."
"Yes, it looks plausible, but so does all
fiction. You 're taking a chance. You 're
losing time. If it fails"
"But if it succeeds?"
"Well, go and bring back a story. If
you don't, look out. It's against my better
judgment anyway. Remember I told you
that."
Skaggs shot out of the office, and within
an hour and a half had boarded a fast train
for the South.
It is almost a question whether Skaggs
had a theory or whether he had told him-
self a pretty story and, as usual, believed
219


SKAGGS'S THEOB Y
He insinuated that he was looking around
for business prospects. This proved his open-
sesame. Five years had not changed the
Continental frequenters much, and Skaggs's
intention immediately brought Beachfield
Davis down upon him with the remark,
"If a man wants to go into business, busi-
ness for a gentleman, suh, Gad, there's
no finer or better paying business in the
world than breeding blooded dogs — that
is, if you get a man of experience to go
in with you."
"Dogs, dogs," drivelled old Horace Tal-
bot, "Beachfield's always talking about
dogs. I remember the night we were all
discussing that Hamilton nigger's arrest,
Beachfield said it was a sign of total de-
pravity because his man hunted 'possums
with his hound." The old man laughed
inanely. The hotel whiskey was getting
on his nerves.
The reporter opened his eyes and his
ears. He had stumbled upon something,
at any rate.
221


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
gan his story, interlarding it frequently
with comments of his own.
"Now, in the first place, Mr. Skaggs,"
he said when the tale was done, "I am
lawyer enough to see for myself how weak
the evidence was upon which the negro was
convicted, and later events have done much
to confirm me in the opinion that he was
innocent."
"Later events?"
"Yes." The Colonel leaned across the
table and his voice fell to a whisper.
"Four years ago a great change took place
in Maurice Oakley. It happened in the
space of a day, and no one knows the
cause of it. From a social, companionable
man, he became a recluse, shunning visitors
and dreading society. From an open-
hearted, unsuspicious neighbour, he be-
came secretive and distrustful of his own
friends. From an active business man,
he has become a retired brooder. He sees
no one if he can help it. He writes no
letters and receives none, not even from
224


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"And for what?" Skaggs was trembling
with eagerness.
The Colonel dropped his voice lower.
""We can only speculate," he said;
"but, as I have said, I have my theory.
Oakley was a just man, and in punishing
his old servant for the supposed robbery it
is plain that he acted from principle. But
he is also a proud man and would hate to
confess that he had been in the wrong.
So I believed that the cause of his first
shock was the finding of the money that
he supposed gone. Unwilling to admit
this error, he lets the misapprehension go
on, and it is the money which he carries
in his secret pocket, with a morbid fear of
its discovery, that has made him dismiss
his servants, leave his business, and refuse
to see his friends."
"A very natural conclusion, Colonel, and
I must say that I believe you. It is strange
that others have not seen as you have seen
and brought the matter to light."
"Well, you see, Mr. Skaggs, none are so
226


SKAGGS'S THEORY
dull as the people who think they think.
I can safely say that there is not another
man in this town who has lighted upon
the real solution of this matter, though it
has been openly talked of for so long.
But as for bringing it to light, no one
would think of doing that. It would
be sure to hurt Oakley's feelings, and he is
of one of our best families."
"Ah, yes, perfectly right."
Skaggs had got all that he wanted; much
more, in fact, than he had expected. The
Colonel held him for a while yet to enlarge
upon the views that he had expressed.
When the reporter finally left him, it
was with a cheery " Good-night, Colonel.
If I were a criminal, I should be afraid of
that analytical mind of yours!"
He went upstairs chuckling. "The old
fool!" he cried as he flung himself into a
chair. "I've got it! I've got it! Maurice
Oakley must see me, and then what?"
He sat down to think out what he should
do to-morrow. Again, with his fine disre-
227


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
gard of ways and means, he determined to
trust to luck, and as he expressed it,
"brace old Oakley."
Accordingly he went about nine o'clock
the next morning to Oakley's house. A
gray-haired, sad-eyed woman inquired his
errand.
"I want to see Mr. Oakley," he said.
"You cannot see him. Mr. Oakley is
not well and does not see visitors."
"But I must see him, madam; I am
here upon business of importance."
"You can tell me just as well as him.
I am his wife and transact all of his busi-
ness."
"I can tell no one but the master of the
house himself."
"You cannot see him. It is against his
orders."
"Very well," replied Skaggs, descending
one step; "it is his loss, not mine. I have
tried to do my duty and failed. Simply
tell him that I came from Paris."
"Paris?" cried a querulous voice behind
228


A YELLOW JOURNAL
for the Universe to look into the methods
of Southern court proceedings. Here's a
chance for a spread."
The Universe had always claimed to be
the friend of all poor and oppressed hu-
manity, and every once in a while it did
something to substantiate its claim, where-
upon it stood off and said to the public,
"Look you what we have done, and behold
how great we are, the friend of the people!"
The Universe was yellow. It was very so.
But it had power and keenness and energy.
It never lost an opportunity to crow, and
if one was not forthcoming, it made one.
In this way it managed to do a considerable
amount of good, and its yellowness became
forgivable, even commendable. In Skaggs's
story the editor saw an opportunity for
one of its periodical philanthropies. He
seized upon it. With headlines that took
half a page, and with cuts authentic and
otherwise, the tale was told, and the people
of New York were greeted next morning
with the announcement of —
237


AJTELLOW JOURNAL
madness there had been no peace within
his doors. At first his wife had tried to
control him alone, and had humoured the
wild babblings with which he woke from
his swoon. But these changed to shrieks
and cries and curses, and she was forced to
throw open the doors so long closed and
call in help. The neighbours and her old
friends went to her assistance, and what
the reporter's story had not done, the rav-
ings of the man accomplished; for, with a
show of matchless cunning, he continually
clutched at his breast, laughed, and bab-
bled his secret openly. Even then they
would have smothered it in silence, for the
honour of one of their best families; but
too many ears had heard, and then came
the yellow journal bearing all the news in
emblazoned headlines.
Colonel Saunders was distinctly hurt to
think that his confidence had been imposed
on, and that he had been instrumental in
bringing shame upon a Southern name.
"To think, suh," he said generally to
239


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
the usual assembly of choice spirits, — " to
think of that man's being a reporter, suh,
a common, ordinary reporter, and that I
sat and talked to him as if he were a gen-
tleman!"
"You're not to be blamed, Colonel,"
said old Horace Talbot. "You've done no
more than any other gentleman would have
\done. The trouble is that the average
[Northerner has no sense of honour, suh, no
bense of honour. If this particular man
had had, he would have kept still, and
'everything would have gone on smooth
and quiet. Instead of that, a distinguished
family is brought to shame, and for what?
To give a nigger a few more years of free-
dom when, likely as not, he don't want it;
and Berry Hamilton's life in prison has
proved nearer the ideal reached by slavery
than anything he has found since emanci-
pation. Why, suhs, I fancy I see him
leaving his prison with tears of regret in
his eyes."
Old Horace was inanely eloquent for an
240


THE SPORT OF THE 00DS
p The trial was reviewed; the evidence
again brought up and examined. The dig-
nity of the State was threatened. At this
time the State did the one thing necessary
to save its tottering reputation. It would
not surrender, but it capitulated, and Berry
Hamilton was pardoned.
Berry heard the news with surprise and
a half-bitter joy. He had long ago lost hope
ijthat justice would ever be done to him.
He marvelled at the word that was brought
to him now, and he could not understand
the strange cordiality of the young white
man who met him at the warden's office.
Five years of prison life had made a differ-
ent man of him. He no longer looked to
receive kindness from his fellows, and he
blinked at it as he blinked at the unwonted
brightness of the sun. The lines about
his mouth where the smiles used to gather
had changed and grown stern with the
hopelessness of years. His lips drooped
pathetically, and hard treatment had
given his eyes a lowering look. His hair,
242


XVIII
WHAT BERRY FOUND
HAD not Berry's years of prison life
made him forget what little he knew
of reading, he might have read the name
Gibson on the door-plate where they told
him to ring for his wife. But he knew
nothing of what awaited him as he confi-
dently pulled the bell. Fannie herself
came to the door. The news the papers
held had not escaped her, but she had
suffered in silence, hoping that Berry might
be spared the pain of finding her. Now he
stood before her, and she knew him at a
glance, in spite of his haggard countenance.
'"Fannie," he said, holding out his arms
to her, and all of the pain and pathos of
long yearning was in his voice, "don't you
know me?"
246


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
Berry started forward with a cry, "My
Gawd! my Gawd! my little gal! my
boy!"
"Dat ain't all," she went on dully, as if
reciting a rote lesson; "I ain't yo' wife no
mo'. I's ma'ied ag'in. Oh Be'y, Be'y,
don't look at me lak dat. I could n't he'p
it. Kit an' Joe lef me, an' dey said de
pen'tentiary divo'ced you 'an' me, an' dat
you'd nevah come out nohow. Don't look
at me lak dat, Be'y."
"You ain't my wife no mo'? Hit's a
lie, a damn lie! You is my wife. I's a
innocent man. No pen'tentiay kin tek
you erway f'om me. Hit's enough what
dey've done to my chillen." He rushed
forward and seized her by the arm. "Dey
sha'n't do no mo', by Gawd! dey sha'n't,
I say!" His voice had risen to a fierce
roar, like that of a hurt beast, and he
shook her by the arm as he spoke.
"Oh, don't, Be'y, don't, you hu't me. I
could n't he'p it."
~~ He glared at her for a moment, and then
248


WHAT BERRY FOUND
the real force of the situation came full
upon him, and he bowed his head in his
hands and wept like a child. The great
sobs came up and stuck in his throat.
She crept up to him fearfully and laid
her hand on his head.
"Don't cry, Be'y," she said; "I done
wrong, but I loves you yit."
He seized her in his arms and held her
tightly until he could control himself.
Then he asked weakly, "Well, what am I
goin' to do?"
"I do' know, Be'y, 'ceptin' dat you 'll
have to leave me."
"I won't! I 'll never leave you again,"
he replied doggedly.
"But, Be'y, you mus'. You 'll only mek
it ha'der on me, an' Gibson'll beat me
ag'in."
"Ag'in!"
She hung her head: "Yes."
He gripped himself hard.
"Why cain't you come on off wid me,
Fannie? You was mine fus'."
249


THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"I could n't. He would fin' me any-
whaih I went to."
"Let him fin' you. You 'll be wid me,
an' we 'll settle it, him an' me."
"I want to, but oh, I can't, I can't," she
wailed. "Please go now, Be'y, befo' he
gits home. He's mad anyhow, 'cause
you're out."
Berry looked at her hard, and then said
in a dry voice, " An' so I got to go an' leave
you to him?"
"Yes, you mus'; I'm his'n now."
He turned to the door, murmuring, " My
wife gone, Kit a nobody, an' Joe, little Joe,
a murderer, an' then I — I — ust to pray
to Gawd an' call him 'Ouah Fathah.'"
He laughed hoarsely. It sounded like
nothing Fannie had ever heard before.
"Don't, Be'y, don't say dat. Maybe
we don't un'erstan'."
Her faith still hung by a slender
thread, but his had given way in that
moment.
"No, we don't un'erstan'," he laughed
250